


Stay the Course

by eedmund



Series: An Honest Conversation [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, After 'An Honest Conversation', After S2e10, Canon Divergece - Post S2e10, F/M, Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3306200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eedmund/pseuds/eedmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The course of love never did run smooth but, let's be real honest, no course runs smooth for Skye and Ward. Skye's trying to find out who or what she really is and her fact finding mission leads her and her friends back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and into a nasty altercation with a terrorist group.  Post-An Honest Conversation, canon-divergent after s2e10</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Real and Significant Threat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExcellentlyEllen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcellentlyEllen/gifts).



[The Pentagon, Meeting Room 5J084. 19:00 Debriefing.]

“Director Coulson, I'm glad you were able to find the time to meet with us today,” the man speaking was built like a linebacker. Everything that could be large on a person was larger on this man and not in a way that suggested a diet of too many cheeseburgers with fries. He was a solid wall of muscle.

“The pleasure is all mine. General Morris, is it?” Phil Coulson replied politely, extending his hand to shake the other man's. 

The General nodded. “Hank Morris, Army.” He pointed to the svelte woman standing next to him, “This is General Lydia Perez, Marine Corps.” Morris continued the introductions as a courtesy though they were hardly necessary. Coulson was standing in a room with the US military's top brass. He already knew their names, their favorite color, their preferred weapons, and, more importantly, their known weaknesses. “General William DuBois, Air Force. Admiral Alexis Bell, Navy. And Commandant Christopher Fox of the Coast Guard. We're all eager to hear about the new group of hostiles your organization encountered last month in Jersey.”

Coulson grimaced. “I wouldn't exactly identify them as 'hostiles'. They're more of an unknown entity. Our interrogations have shown they don't hold a lot of ill will toward the American populace.” He took a seat at the head of the boardroom table while the array of military elites settled into their own respective places. “That's, in part, what I'm here to discuss. They've been settled in S.H.I.E.L.D. containment for a month now and we've found no reason to continue detaining them.” Coulson delivered his lie without any facial ticks, without any change in cadence. 

General Perez spoke up, “We understand that they took one of your own?” Her dark eyes reflected her concern but she was the only member of the military panel that seemed inclined to care.

“That cannot be confirmed. Our missing agent was not found at their storage facility. We believed that she would be present when we arrived but it is entirely plausible that her phone and laptop had been stolen. The story presented and maintained by those in containment is likely valid. If they purchased the equipment at a cut-rate price, they've already paid for their crime; buying stolen goods may be illegal but the time they've been in S.H.I.E.L.D. lockup far exceeds the standard penalty doled out for such an indiscretion.” 

When his teams cleaned out the storage facility, they'd found evidence of Skye being there, of course. Her phone and its GPS were what brought S.H.I.E.L.D. tearing into New Jersey in the first place. But it was her blood splashed across the floor of the warehouse that really had Coulson concerned. There was not enough of it for Simmons to suggest that there was any need for a _great_ deal of concern but that didn't stop Coulson from wanting to know she was safe. Keeping the particular selection of ...Inhumans... in containment, however, wasn't aiding anyone in the quest to recover Skye. If the Inhumans knew her whereabouts, tracking them after their release from the Playground would give S.H.I.E.L.D. a far better lead than they now had. The military's black and white handling of this matter, of all matters, was something Coulson was trying to avoid. He knew going in he'd have to keep his truth-telling in check.

General Morris tapped the table with his beefy hands. Coulson wondered, briefly, if he had to get custom order clothing to contain all his mass. The General made a wide gesture to the others at the table. “It is our belief that these _Inhumans_ pose a real and significant threat to the American public. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. has brought them in, the United States government would prefer that S.H.I.E.L.D. continue to lead the efforts to minimize this threat. Keeping the Inhumans away from civilians until it is indisputably clear that they are no longer a threat and can offer no further intelligence value is our first priority.”

“Intelligence value?” Coulson asked maintaining his neutral expression. He could guess where this was going but needed the General to spell it out. Making assumptions never played out well during negotiations and would only serve to tip his hand.

General DuBois took point on this question. He didn't speak loudly but his low, gravelly voice filled the room with little effort. “Director Coulson, I'm sure you've seen the reports on the Evolutus Guard?” Coulson nodded and the general continued, “The string of gruesome murders that has been reported across the country suggests a larger, more organized effort on the part of these creatures to not just live amongst us. If Evolutus is any indication, they seem inclined to eradicate humanity. Your detainees may play off that they were only gathering medicine and supplies – stockpiling such things, too, doesn't strike me as entirely benign – but the mutilated bodies of hundreds of Americans suggests there's something far worse going on. Your captives can provide insight on the terrorist _Inhumans_ : how they work, how they think, and what weaknesses they possess. Their value cannot be overstated.”

Evolutus was troubling for more reasons than General DuBois had pointed out. They seemed organized; they moved fast; they seemed to delight in murder; and they liked to paint eerie messages with the blood of their victims. Messages like: 'only the strongest will survive' or 'out with the old, in with the new'. The group always made it clear they believed they were a new stage in human evolution and they weren't terribly fond of their predecessors. Except, maybe, as a vital ingredient in their stock of red paint. Coulson cursed the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. was so far behind on their intel for this group. They were behind on a lot of things these days. Their failure to keep pace with finding, indexing, and keeping gifted individuals in check was another bit of fallout from the Hydra uprising and from the incident in San Juan. With regards to this conversation, however, that was neither here nor there. Coulson made his first fully true statement: “Our detainees have disavowed knowledge on Evolutus. They're not associated.”

Morris looked a little too smug when he chimed in, “Are you so sure? I wouldn't want to cast aspersions on your organization, _Director_ Coulson, but, if you release such a potential hazard on the American populace, are you sure S.H.I.E.L.D. can withstand the backlash? Perhaps releasing murderers on unsuspecting civilians isn't really the stand that a reformed S.H.I.E.L.D. should be trying to make.”

Coulson's brow furrowed, his voice couldn't maintain its careful flatness any longer. An angry sharpness crept into his tone, “Every time I sit down at a meeting with some branch of the US government, I'm regaled with how _my_ organization is one step removed from being the terrorist threat. You want our aid in this? Well, we can not provide it if you continue to hinder our action by dangling this sword of Damocles over us.”

“Damocles, Coulson? I had no idea you were such a lover of the classics,” Morris jeered, exposing his own ignorance.

“Yes. Well, one of my favorite classic documents is the US Constitution. Are you familiar with it General Morris?” It was not a very diplomatic question and the flash of ire in the General's eyes let Coulson know he was walking a fine line. Still, it had to be said, “I believe it's Amendment 14 says 'No state shall deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law'. We've indexed the Inhumans we found in Jersey. We will watch them but we do not have legal right...”

Morris cut him off. “Legal right? Well, this _is_ the new turn for S.H.I.E.L.D. Since when did you become concerned about due process? I don't think you need to worry about the Constitution, Coulson. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. has changed so much that it is now an avid supporter of America's founding documents, the Constitution simply doesn't apply here.”

“And why not?”

“Well, for one, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't acting as the state just a ...consulting organization. And, secondly, the Constitution makes it very clear that it protects 'all persons'. These creatures aren't human. Inhuman, isn't that their term? I don't see the problem...”

Coulson cut in, “The problem is how S.H.I.E.L.D. is being used to do your dirty work and we all know the US government will gleefully throw us under the bus if this situation becomes unpopular.”

General Perez injected her calm voice to the discussion. “If we can offer further support to make sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. is fully reinstated with its prior privileges and access –and make sure the unfortunate altercation with Hydra is truly put to rest— removing the, how did you put it? 'Sword of Damocles' resting above you all? Would you, then, be more willing to assist the US government in this small matter? It would mean so much to us.”

And there it was. Coulson had always known there would come a time when his moral code would come in direct conflict with the viability of S.H.I.E.L.D. as an organization that could serve and protect. The question would have to be settled by which option could do the most good, which option would protect the most people. There really was no contest but he gave one last try, “That's not good enough. We cannot warehouse these people forever. The cost alone...”

General DuBois' all-consuming voice killed the excuse before it even got out. “If funding is your only source of concern, we have some discretionary funds available. We will see that you get what you need.”

As Coulson sat through another hour of hammering out the details of how the US military would use S.H.I.E.L.D. as a consultant on the Inhuman issue, he couldn't help but hope that Skye was doing alright on her own, that she wasn't caught up with some group of truly horrible people, that she was safe. 

It would be awhile before S.H.I.E.L.D. could afford to further search for her and, now, when they did, he wasn't all that sure he could keep her out of their new, high tech containment cells: a real and significant threat indeed.


	2. Never As Planned

[Seattle, LaQuinta Inn on 8th Avenue, downtown. 10AM.]

“For the love of all that is holy, Ward, go walk the dog,” Kara Lynn snarled at him. “I can't stand how twitchy you both are.”

Ward took pity on her nerves and leashed up Oscar. It couldn't hurt to tire the rambunctious little dog out before Skye arrived. He actually wasn't entirely sure how Skye would take to Oscar. He'd never heard her express an opinion on dogs. Maybe she didn't like them? He had no doubts about how Oscar would take to Skye, however. The little dog was an unrelenting bundle of love and affection. As Ward walked past the yoga studio on the corner, Oscar affectionately urinated on the hydrate and lovingly yipped at pedestrians. Ward knew he should probably start training his dog to have slightly better manners but he felt a little guilty that Oscar was stuck inside the stamp-sized hotel room all on his own most days. His over-exuberance on his walks was his only real time to be a pup.

Ward and Oscar played fetch in the little green stretch behind the hotel for nearly an hour. The dog greeted everyone in the park with an eagerness that simultaneously delighted children and horrified caretakers. Ward was just glad that Oscar genuinely seemed to like everyone. He'd bark and scramble and frolic but not yowl and snarl and growl. A total lack of malevolence was a good trait for an ill-trained dog to naturally have. Kara Lynn would always joke that Ward and Oscar were polar opposite in that regard.

Oscar hadn’t quite figured out how playing fetch worked. Just as Ward’s patience for throwing and retrieving the ball wore thin, he heard someone call him: “Ward! Hey! Grant!” He couldn’t help but smile. It had only been a week since he’d last seen Skye during his trip down to Oregon but that week had felt like an interminably long time. He turned to see her walking toward him, hands tucked into her jacket, hair swinging down her back. She smiled up at Ward until a furry little devil decided that she was the best new thing in the park. 

“Oh! Look at you!” Skye said, forgetting all about Ward and crouching low to scratch Oscar behind his floppy ears. The puppy was shameless. He immediately rolled over on his back, exposing his belly, and wiggled about for more pats. 

“Skye meet Oscar. Oscar, this is Skye,” Ward said towering over them. He couldn’t help but feel just a little jealous that _he_ wasn’t getting a super affectionate greeting. He’d rather Skye ran her hands all over him than his dog. At least it answered the question to whether or not Skye liked dogs though. She was currently cooing sweet nothings at his wretched little pup.

Eventually, Skye looked up and saw him glowering down at them. She gave Oscar one last furious belly rub then stood up and wrapped her arms around Ward. He loved the warmth of her. His arms naturally curled around her as she spoke into his chest. “This isn’t a country music ballad, Grant. You can’t be jealous of your dog.” 

“I can if he steals you away from me,” Ward replied while Oscar scrambled around their feet yipping merrily. Ward stole one kiss from Skye and then knelt down to leash Oscar. 

“I’ve got someone to introduce you to as well,” Skye singsonged. 

“Oh?”

“Mmmhmm. You’ll have to wait until we get back to the hotel. I left him with Kara Lynn and Mike.” 

Ward was beyond curious but knew Skye wasn’t going to be any more forthcoming. He didn’t comment on it further since she was clearly waiting for some response from him. She kept shooting him glances from under her lashes. It was almost worth not knowing what she was up to just to watch her squirm with irritation at his stoic reaction. 

When they returned to the hotel, he heard the low laughter of Mike Peterson, Kara Lynn’s slightly frazzled chortle, and a dry chuckle he was totally unfamiliar with. He immediately wished he’d tried harder to get some intel from Skye about the mystery guest. Ward didn’t like surprises. Their group was questionably immoral and about as ragtag as you could get; adding an unknown element to the equation could be explosive. Plus, he didn’t really like _teams_. He was comfortable with Kara Lynn. Save and be saved enough by anyone and ‘comfortable’ will happen. Mike was useful and Kara Lynn seemed intent on keeping him around. And, Skye was...Skye. But another person? That was going one step too far into the “Let’s All Just Be Friends” category that he’d worked so hard his entire life to avoid. If this continued any further, they'd all be sitting around a campfire, holding hands, and singing 'Kumbaya' and 'This Land is Our Land'. 

He slid the key card into the door and it fell open. Skye brushed past him. Standing in front of her was a tall man, as tall as Ward himself if not an inch or two taller. He had classic good looks, high cheekbones, and full lips. His sleek golden blond hair was closely cropped with almost military precision. The brilliant smile that probably came paired with that unfamiliar dry chuckle grew even more bright when the man’s pale eyes landed on Skye. The look he gave her was more than friendly and Ward had to bite back his urge to growl at the man.

“Skye! You came back quickly! Kara Lynn was assuring me we wouldn’t see you again for a month or two. Something about being dragged off by a cave troll?” The assumed camaraderie in the question did not win him any favors from Ward. Instead, Ward's jaw cranked tighter and his frown deepened; he was one step away from grinding his teeth. Or grinding someone else's face into the ground.

Skye smiled gamely at Kara Lynn and then craned her head back towards Ward. “Ward, this is Ry. He's been helping me with the earthquake thing.” She wobbled her hands back and forth for emphasis before continuing, “Ry, this is Ward, my favorite cave troll.” She reached back and touched his forearm briefly. It was both proprietary (something Ward did not mind) as well as a warning to be cordial (something Ward did mind).

The other man extended a hand to shake. “It's Orion Zane actually but, if you're as lazy as Skye about saying full names, I'm okay with 'Ry'.” He turned that bright smile up a notch to take away the sting of his words. Skye didn't seem to mind and smiled indulgently back at 'Ry'. Ward shook his hand with his firmest grip but did not return the smile.

A low grumble caused everyone to whip around to look at Oscar. The little dog was frozen in the door way, teeth bared, growling fiercely at Zane. Skye stepped toward the dog carefully blocking his view of the other man and Oscar stopped and weakly wagged his tail.

“Wow, Ry. I guess Oscar is not a fan of you,” she said, keeping herself between the dog and the man. She reached out to scratch lightly at the dog and Oscar's tail wagging kicked up a notch.

Zane didn't seemed bothered by this. He shrugged. “I guess the little guy can sense I'm more of a cat person.”

Ward felt the insincerity of the statement like an upper cut to the chin. Whoever Orion Zane was—and he wasn't just a cat person—he was hiding something. And if Oscar didn't like the man? He was clearly up to no good. Ward glanced around at his team but no one else seemed ready to pounce, ready to eradicate this charlatan from their midst. Kara Lynn looked amused and Mike Peterson was practically grinning. Was he really the only one besides Oscar to sense this wrongness?

“Well, now that we're all here, maybe Skye and Ry can catch us up on the plan. We've got to check out of this hotel by noon so we should probably know where we're off to next,” Mike prompted from where he was lounging on the uncomfortable high-back chair in the corner. Mike didn't lounge well. His cybernetic armor kept his posture unnaturally straight. Dressed in all black with his trench coat pooling around him, he looked like a distressed gothic statue draped neatly for a museum exhibit.

“Skye and Ry?” Kara Lynn quipped. “Please never do that again or we're going to turn into a live action reenactment of Dr. Seuss.” Zane laughed hardily at this while Ward maintained his look of annoyance. 

Skye ignored the aside altogether. She scooped Oscar up into her lap but did not get up off the floor. Leaning back she rested against Ward so he was obliged to remain standing behind her. It was an obligation that didn't bother him though. He didn't want to be any closer to Zane than he already was and he didn't want Skye anywhere closer to him either. He wished she was just a little bit taller so he could weave his fingers into her hair. As it was, he had nothing with which to occupy his hands so he shoved them deep into his pockets.

“I feel like we're all on different pages for this. So, let me see if I can get everyone to the same one. Kara Lynn, you might be the furthest behind because it has been so long since we've last met?” Kara Lynn nodded. “So, uh, after Jersey, I started digging around the laptop we picked up. It was a good grab, there's tons of stuff on the Attilanian people filed away in there. Did Ward tell you about that at least?” Kara Lynn nodded again so Skye continued. “They're really fascinating. From what I understand, we're not the only species of intelligent life on earth.”

Zane, who'd plopped down on the first bed sprawling backward across it, cut in. “By 'we're' you mean them? I'll just out myself now as an Attilanian and be done with it.” He said it with a smile but Ward felt the expression was manifestly false. Again, he scanned his allies and, again, he was dismayed that they remained oblivious.

Ward finally did start to grind his teeth but Skye just smiled and said, “Sure. Right. One thing at a time, Ry.”

“By 'we', I mean people, uh, humans... _homo sapiens_ or whatever. There was an evolutionary split centuries ago when an alien species—referred to as the Kree by the Attilanian files—messed around with human evolution. Attilanians are essentially humans spliced with alien blood. And those Diviners?” Here she rolled her head back in an effort to look at Ward but couldn't quite manage given how she rested against his legs. Instead, she just unsettled Oscar who scrambled to regain his position in her lap with an annoyed 'hrmph'. Ward, however, understood her desire for confirmation on something they had a shared history with. He pressed his leg forward to acknowledge her and felt the warmth of her left hand as it came to rest on his calf. She returned to the conversation with only a small stammer. “Diviners. They, uh, 'unlock' that evolutionary change in people that have that bloodline.”

“So you're an Attilanian too then, Skye?” Mike asked, his face carefully neutral.

“I guess? Technically. But that's just the thing...Attilanian is what they call themselves because Attilan is a place. A secret floating city that's somehow accessible from earth but not exactly on earth. I mean, it is a little confusing from the files on the computer but I think Videmus, uh, the eyeless dude that locked Ward and me up in Jersey?” Everyone had heard _that_ story so Skye just kept on explaining. “I think he's from there and I think my mother was from there too.”

So, that was the crux of it. Ward knew exactly what it meant when Skye brought up her mother. Since he first knew her, Skye's entire drive had been to find her family, to find her mother. Granted, he hadn't know that at the time. He just thought she was a cute but obnoxious Rising Tide hacker who was up to no good. But he'd learned. And he'd tried to help when he did find out. Her disappointment in her father had been severe but her mother? She was still untainted, still something that Skye could cling to as the one thing that would unlock the whole of her life, give it meaning, give _her_ meaning. “So, you'd like to go there? Attilan?” he asked softly. He knew he should not read too much into her answer but he was also self-aware enough to know he'd do it anyway.

Skye must've known too because she tightened her grip on his calf and ran her thumb in a slow circle. She was having more success calming Oscar with her petting than she was with him but Ward did not pull away. “I'd like to find it, yeah. The trick is figuring out who is friendly and who is not. Attilanians seem to be in three camps. There's a group called Evolutus which is into some really dark stuff. They seem to be responsible for that string of mutilations that's been all over the news the last few weeks. Then there was Videmus' crew. I think it was S.H.I.E.L.D. that swept in and got them. Setting aside our own encounter with them, they seem pretty harmless. Maybe a little flakey? They have some weird mythology going about my mother and her blood but they also seem to mostly be trying to isolate the city further, I guess? They've been stockpiling medicine and supplies but, again, I'm not really sure what for.”

“From what you've told me, Skye, they seem like they're setting up to start their own secret society. The Attilanian equivalent of a religious commune with you as the goddess! You might not have had it too bad sticking it out there.” Zane chimed in.

“Yes. Well, they do have creepy down well if nothing else,” Skye muttered.

“You said three groups?” Kara Lynn prodded Skye back toward the relevant conversation. 

“Yes. Well, then, there's us. Just normal people with not so normal powers that would just like to figure out the why and how of it,” Skye replied. 

“...And both those answers seem to be floating in some secret city.” Zane finished smoothly.

“I thought you said you were from there. An Attilanian?” Ward said with a glare.

“Nah. That's the term Skye's using for anyone that's dealt with Diviners. I had my own encounter with one, got my own set of special issues. But I haven't had the opportunity to get to some top-secret city in the sky though I'd really like to find it.”

“Find the city. Find the answers?” Kara Lynn said slowly. “What if you don't like the answers you find?” 

No one had a quick response to that. 

“To be honest, I haven't really processed that far yet. The last few months I've mostly been trying to figure out how I work. I'm getting better there. Thanks to Ry.” Ward was probably going to have to see a dentist after all this teeth grinding. Skye didn't seem to notice his tension until she dropped her final bomb. “All the talk of a city, all the files I've dug out of the laptop? I'm still not sure exactly where it is.”

“Jesus, Skye. So we've got nothing to run on so far? Just some vague myth?” He didn't like how impatient he sounded, he didn't like how she let go of his calf and inched away from him ever so slightly. But he had thought she was coming with a plan at least. A destination. Running half-cocked around the country chasing crack pots and super-powered criminals was not his idea of a good time. 

Defensively, Skye bit back, “Well, we've got _something_. There's this brief memo from Director Fury – from when he was Director. He was in communication with someone in Attilan. You know Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd never have just left that mystery unturned. I may not know where to look but you can bet S.H.I.E.L.D. does.”

Kara Lynn took up the thankless task of pinning down Skye's plan. “Let me get this straight. You want one known Hydra traitor. No, well, two...”

“You might as well just count me as a traitor too. You're up to three!” Mike blithely added from his corner.

“Three known traitors, an AWOL S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've been on high alert for and some nobody—sorry Ry, but you're an unknown—and just, what? Walk into the Playground and ask them if they know about a top-secret floating city?” Kara Lynn's incredulity was painted across her face and in the tightness of the set of her shoulders.

“I wasn't thinking of just walking in. More like, uh, breaking in? I need ten minutes on a main terminal and I can have all the information I need.”

“Skye, you don't do small do you?” Mike shook his head and chuckled. He looked at Kara Lynn and Ward. “What else have we got to do? We can buy her ten minutes.”

Ward knew Mike was right. He didn't like it but...“If we're breaking into S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ,” he said quietly, pulling the room's attention back towards himself. “We're going to need _a lot_ more ammo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to ExcellentlyEllen and her superb edits. Any remaining errors are largely due to my over indulgence in caffeinated beverages. :)


	3. East Coast - Worth It

Phil Coulson had always been an agency man. If he was needed on a mission, he'd go. If he was told to stay, he'd stay. If S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted someone to say 'yes', he'd say 'yes, sir' (or 'ma'am', depending on who was doing the asking). Trust the system, they said. And he had. Until the system came crumbling down, until he was left with the broken down shell of it and told to make it right again. 

Phil Coulson wasn't an agency man anymore but, now, he was The Agency. The distinction well and thoroughly sucked. Especially since now he knew nothing was as it seemed. The Slingshot Protocol was a lie. Rehabilitating dangerous criminals in the Fridge? A lie. Shutting down crazed, dangerous, and horrifyingly unethical programs like T.A.H.I.T.I.? He was alive and so was the lie. Before, when he had concerns about a mission, a project, or a decision, he could assure himself that his clearance just wasn't high enough. If he had all the information, all the pieces to the puzzle, the decision trickling down from the top would make sense. Knowing that the decision would be a good one, a just one was part of being in S.H.I.E.L.D. The Agency was there to serve and protect and that was what Coulson did best even if he didn't always understand the how and why of it. He knew the how and why of it now and, as Director, he could make real and legitimate change. He could steer S.H.I.E.L.D. back to a path of righteousness, make a system that could be trusted.

But first, he had to have people trust S.H.I.E.L.D. again. Well, not people, but agencies, governments, military branches. S.H.I.E.L.D. never worked in isolation and repairing those bridges were as important as repairing S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. Unfortunately, agencies and government didn't work with black and white, good and evil. Everything was about compromise.

And compromise felt dirty.

Good and evil, Coulson could handle. Black and white. Yes and No. If only all evil people were so clear and honest with their intentions, he'd lock them away and throw away the key himself. But, now, as he held the lock and the key personally, the shades of gray disturbed him. Do you lock up someone because they have the potential to do bad? If you don't and they murder someone, or ten someones, or hundreds...are those deaths on your hands because you had the chance to stop it all before it started? When he'd been an agency man, he'd sent people off to the Fridge for indefinite sentences and he could always sleep well at night knowing that the worst sort of criminals, the most dangerous sort of human had been taken off the streets. 

Serve and Protect. That's what he did.

Now, he watched the little blue feathered boy on the video monitor as _his_ agents, under _his_ command maintained their interrogation. The boy had not been allowed to sleep for nearly 30 hours and the exhaustion was starting to show. Tremors would occasionally work their way through the boy's body as he yawned so hard as to make his jaw snap. He tried so very hard to answer questions he had no answers for. This interrogation was reaching its fifteenth hour; one hour for each year the boy had been alive. To serve and protect, Coulson reminded himself, that's what his agents thought they were doing. But Coulson couldn't help feeling that in this scenario, the evil was on the wrong side of the interrogation room table. That boy didn't have any answers. Worse, anything he said at this point would just be to make the pain stop; to make them go away; to get a blessed hour of sleep after having none for so long. This interrogation was just an act of cruelty.

General Morris stood calmly next to him, the solid wall of a man who had quickly becoming everything that Coulson learned to hate, a reminder that he was failing his heroic ideal. “I think we've almost got what we need out of that little monster,” the general said, lips curling upward with approval. “You've done good work, Coulson. I wasn't sure you'd have it in you but this...This is something to be proud of.” 

Coulson didn't respond.

The other man held out a small flash drive. “This drive has all our current intel on Evolutus. Every attack is on here. When they took place, where they took place, who was killed...it's everything. My colleagues and I will trust S.H.I.E.L.D. can end this. Soon. When you do, you'll have no problems stepping back into your rightful place, at least, no problems on the American front.”

Coulson took the flash drive and nodded as the general smiled cordially and saw himself out. 

When the tracker on Morris' temporary lanyard had indicated he was no longer on premises. Coulson commed the agents in the interrogation room. “We're done. Dim the lights, let the suspect rest.” Even after his agents were gone, Coulson watched the monitor. It took all of two minutes for the blue feathered boy to succumb to exhaustion. Five minutes in, the vitals monitors fully indicated that he was sound asleep. 

Coulson pressed the flash drive into the terminal in front of him and pulled up a file. Of course, he'd seen the news footage on Evolutus but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s priorities had been elsewhere. They had not done due diligence with concerns to that group, a mistake Coulson was looking to rectify now. Flipping through the first sets of documents, it looked like S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't been the only agency to drop the ball. At first, no one was quite sure who they were dealing with. Their messages, painted in blood, were often unclear. Their targets were seemingly random. The FBI had eventually been called in to support local law enforcement. A federal manhunt for a serial killer had been started until the number of victims jumped to improbable heights. With the crime scenes spanning the whole of the country, it was seen as far more likely that they needed to track down multiple killers, an organized group. The force of the blood splatter, the horrifying ways that bodies were sliced and vivisected or simply torn asunder finally broke the FBI's ability to process it. By the time they realized they weren't hunting for a human, the body count was well into double digits. Calling in the military had been the next step taken since S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen so far from grace. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was the last on the line.

Coulson flipped through the photos, the lab document, and the crime scene reports. He stared grimly at the mangled bodies of a family next to the scrawl line “The Strongest Will Survive”. The murderers had not used a weapon but merely tore each member of the family apart, one limb at a time. They'd left their faces unmarred. Rigor mortis had locked the agony of their last moment onto their faces: an array of permanent silent screams. Coulson had been witness to many a horrible scene in his life as a field agent but this? Children? Families? Their pain was painted across their dead expressions much more clearly than the twisted message had been painted on the floor. Whoever was involved with Evolutus was beyond sick and twisted, was beyond evil. Inhumane or Inhuman … it didn't matter. It had to stop.

S.H.I.E.L.D. might not have to sacrifice its heroic ideal after all. These files made it so very clear that Evolutus had to be stopped by any means and S.H.I.E.L.D. had its experience with _any means_. Coulson would just have to remember there was a much larger picture to focus on. The show of force in the interrogation had gained them the cooperation and intel the military had previously withheld. And, if that could bring an end to the Evolutus killing spree? It would all be worth it. 

Coulson glanced back at the monitor where the blue boy remained passed out across the metal interrogation table. He pulled the flash drive and pocketed it. He'd have to get the data to a team to analyze and process. Now, however, he was going to bring the feathered boy a cot and a blanket. Sleeping on the table like that would only cause more pain and Coulson knew this world didn't need any more pain.

He left the room considering the balances of good and evil. It _had_ to be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ExcellentlyEllen should get a bazillion accolades for keeping this clean and smooth and functional. She's been super helpful and this wouldn't be happening without her help. Thank YOU, too, for reading, commenting, following, etc. ...and, really, I like Coulson. Just, uh, hold on for the ride!


	4. West Coast - Worth It

“God...This had better be worth it,” Skye muttered to Mike as he lugged her bag into the back of the SUV.

Since everyone (except Ry) was currently on the no fly list, chartering a commercial flight back to New York City was not an option. Stealing a plane, though possible with the skill sets of their little group of miscreants, would raise too many red flags in all the wrong places. If the goal was to hit HQ quickly and quietly, get the data, and get out, they needed to avoid red flags of all sorts. If they could avoid an altercation altogether, that would be for the best. If they couldn't, well, they weren't bringing Ward and Mike Peterson in for no reason. At first, the thought of doing a road trip with friends had excited Skye. It was like a great American dream! Or, a sappy made-for-TV movie...Skye wasn't sure if there was much of a difference. The plot would run a mismatched group of fun-loving friends through some tough conversations with some great revelations while they enjoyed all the quaint sights and greasy diner food that America had to offer. Apple pie, wide open prairie, and bonding over the abysmal quality of gas station bathrooms. It was win-win-and, well, not exactly a _win_ but Skye could handle that.

When they'd hashed out the bare bones plan and it came down to the 2,900 mile cross-country trek being the only way to surreptitiously get to New York City? Skye had almost whooped at the thought of it. Kara Lynn was looking awfully pleased too. Skye had no doubt that there'd be several detours to see the weirdest corners of America. But once the real functional planning for Operation: Road Trip had started, Skye quickly found her excitement dwindling. Five adults and a high-spirited puppy on a road trip was simply not a comfortable number. Keeping everyone in one car meant either sitting on top of each other or stealing something with a little more cargo space. Since no one seemed inclined to downgrade their vehicular style to mini-van, Ward and Kara Lynn ended up snatching two cars. When they pulled up in front of the LaQuinta just after noon, Skye rolled her eyes. Kara Lynn had, of course, gone the practical route. She'd gotten an Audi SQ5, an SUV with ample cargo space and decent acceleration. Ward, on the other hand, had found a two-seater. He could argue that it had great handling and acceleration but Skye knew the sole purpose of his car choice was to make it impossible for him to have to ever drive with Ry. 

If Ward wanted to play petty games, Skye could play too. She leaned in and made a quick deal with Kara Lynn, swapped places with her behind the wheel of the SUV and before anyone could blink Mike and Ry had quickly opted in to her car.

“Guess it's you and me, baby!” Kara Lynn cooed and scooped up Oscar. Ward just scowled at them all but what could he do? He'd set himself up for that fall.

Mike was never one for small talk and Skye's conversation mode with him was still set to a very one-sided babble that would get an occasional monosyllabic response. But, thankfully, Ry was about as laid back as you could get and his affability was contagious. 

Mike relaxed enough to even start a conversation of his own. “So, how'd you and Skye meet up?”

“She, uh, tracked me down, I guess. I think her crazy cult laptop must have had a list of possible Attilanians in it. And, I was what? The first one you decided to find?”

“Geographically the closest! Mike, you'll sympathize with his story. It's much the same situation as when I met you.”

“So, she stalked you into some diner and invited herself to your table and started spouting nonsensical things right off?”

“Absolutely! Same for you? Did she fiddle with all the sugar packets while spouting off?”

“Yes! It was a nonstop ramble and included some gems like 'pretend that we're talking' and a real quality half-truth along the lines of 'I'm not a groupie stalker type'.” Mike continued his falsetto impression of Skye's first meeting with him. It had the whole car in stitches for miles.

After catching his breath, Ry added, “She does know how to start a conversation in the middle, doesn't she? If I remember correctly, she started in with me by saying 'How do you hide what you are?'”

“Hey! It's just that I kinda rehearse what I'm going to say before...”

“And then you just say whatever happens to be on the tip of your tongue?” Mike finished for her before turning back to look at Ry. “I know this may be a weird question. Seems kinda rude to ask. But, uh, what are you? I mean, what do you do?” He twisted his arm and the cybernetic features clicked and glowed for a second as if to demonstrate super-powers came in all sorts of formats.

“I'm using my power right now,” Ry said with a smile.

“I don't believe that, man,” Mike guffawed. “Prove it.”

“Sure.” And with that word, Ry disappeared, or, at least the 6'3” blond adonis did. In his place, a gray skinned creature with wide eyes and facial features that sagged like putty sat and then, with another blink of the eye, Ry was back, self-conscious smile and all. “I shift forms. My original form is a little hard to get around in so, what you see now, is what I like to think of as my true form...my inner beauty coming out.” He laughed lightly as Skye rolled her eyes at him. “I can shift parts of myself too – just a hand or a foot. Be organic or inorganic matter. Most anything is possible.” He held up his hand. It peeled back and reformed as a fleshy colored flower, then a sharpened pencil, then a wicked looking blade and back to hand. “Or the whole of myself.” Again, Ry disappeared to be placed in rapid succession by a small child, a wizened old man, and a perky teenaged girl. It was the teenaged girl with her sweet, high voice that said, “Plasticity. Shape Shifting. That's what I do.”

“Yeah. And he's really good at it. After I sent you off to find Ward and Kara Lynn, Mike, I found Ry. I was hoping he could tell me a thing or two about controlling my power instead of letting it control me.” She glanced up and caught Ry's eyes in the rearview mirror. “I lucked out finding you, I think.”

“But you two have entirely different things going...”

Ry had returned to his favored form, the golden man who was all smiles. “It's all the same in the end,” he tapped his forehead. “It's about knowing what you want and knowing how to get it.”

“That easy, huh?” Mike replied. Mike had his own struggles with coming into his power and had a lot of empathy for Skye, for Ry. He knew it wasn't all mental control though. There were many other things that could control a person. He had personal experience there too. 

Skye pointed to where the roadster had pulled off to a gas station. “I'm putting 10 bucks down that it was Kara Lynn that got sick of Ward's pouting and not the other way around.”

“There's no way I'm taking that bet,” Mike laughed. “You're up, kid. I'm not going to take shotgun with Ward and his mutt. And that mutt isn't going to want to be in the same car as Ry.”

“Yeah. Well, I'm pretty sure that was Ward's point. You lot have fun. I don't mind the brooding.” Skye parked the SUV. Turning, she winked at the men and intoned, “It's all about knowing what you want and knowing how to get it.” As she passed Kara Lynn on the way to Ward's car, she high-fived her.

Oscar was super excited to have Skye join him in the passenger seat of the roadster. As much as everyone loved to refer to Oscar as a little puppy, he wasn't entirely that anymore. He was reaching that awkward stage when a dog's growth has elapsed his understanding of his own size. Skye tried to resettle the fidgeting dog in her lap but, since Oscar spent more time tripping over himself than not, she only managed to get a paw pressed up into her breast and another scrambling painfully against her hip. With more force than was entirely necessary, she scooped him up and settled him on his back. He squirmed a little but finally found that he was comfortable enough. Skye pet the dog and quietly waited for Ward to ream her out.

They'd gone fifty miles before Skye decided she'd be the first one to break the silence. “This is going to be a long, long drive if you're going to be pissed at me the whole way.”

“It's going to be a long, long drive anyway.”

“Not the point, Ward. Look. I get it. You don't like new people. You don't trust easy. You have damn fine reasons for it too. But, Ry? He's not as bad as you're making him out to be.”

“You don't know that.”

“I do. I've been traveling with him for months now, Ward. He's genuine. He's nice. And, damn it, he's really helped me get a handle on my powers. I owe him a lot and the least I can do is make sure my boyfriend isn't a complete dick to him.”

Ward didn't look her way. He kept his hands locked on the steering wheel at 10 and 2. His face was locked, too, with his annoyingly blank expression. “Oscar doesn't like him.” 

Skye couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. “Ward, you don't exactly hide your own disdain and Oscar is just reading you. Hell, if he'd been around when you first met me, he'd probably hate me too.”

The very edge of Ward's lips curled up a fraction. “Nah. I didn't hate you. I just thought you were terribly inconvenient.”

“Truth or truth, Grant Ward?”

“Truth.”

“We okay?”

He took his eyes off the road for the first time. It was a brief glance, he wasn't being reckless, but it was a very warm look. His right hand dropped down from the wheel and he squeezed her leg. “We're okay. Truth or truth, Skye?”

“Truth.”

“Boyfriend? Is that what I am? Like this is a real thing?”

“Do you want to be?”

“I asked first.”

Skye placed her own hand over where his rested on her leg, twining her fingers through his. “I'd like it to be a real thing. I mean, if that's okay with you? I know I can be a lot of, uh, effort at times. And, I know we won't always agree on things but...?”

He smiled then. It was the soft smile she saw so rarely and only ever when they were alone. “I'm okay with that. You're, uh, worth the effort.”

Skye laughed enough that Oscar got annoyed and moved himself off her lap and to the floor at her feet. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

“I...no...I just made a comment.” That smile again, wider this time. It made her heart leap. Ward wasn't an easy person to get on with but he was probably worth the effort too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day to one and all! Extra thanks, of course, to ExcellentlyEllen, the queen of keeping this mess in check and functional. Thank you, thank you, thank you. :)


	5. Follow, Follow

[S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters]

“This should be easier to do,” Fitz muttered as he spun the image on the holotable. The blues and greens blurred together and then settled as a new image appeared. Fitz scowled at the topographical map of North America. To anyone walking by, it would almost look like the map was a high tech attempt at experimental art or, perhaps, a digitized Seurat painting. Clusters of warm colored dots lined the borders and edges and swirled out across the whole of the hologram. Fitz wasn't struggling with how pointillism fit into modern art history, however. This map detailed out every single earth tremor and quake from the last year. The colors represented the magnitude of each quake. Places like San Juan, that had endure monumentally disastrous seismic occurrences, were a brilliant shade of red while the minor shifts and tremors, that occurred daily, and didn't even register for most people, were pale yellows or greens.

Simmons bit her lower lip as she pinched the image so it narrowed to a small strip of the California coast. “There's just too much data. Several million minor quakes in a year. Even halving that, we're looking at too many occurrences. But real earthquakes have precursors, right? So, why can't we drop any that don't? We're not looking for real in this scenario.” 

Fitz let his right hand drop uselessly to the table with a thud. Exasperated, he replied, “Yes. But we simply don't have a reliable source that collects data on induced...induced...”

“Seismicity?”

Fitz huffed in frustration. “Yes. We should be trying to focus on outliers. But, this has everything! Out of range. Out of, uh...”

“Magnitude? Frequency?”

“Yes. Yes. There should be outliers that aren't natural. A starting place. But we have nothing. Everything is just too clean.”

“Maybe it isn't Skye that's kept herself out of the data? Maybe our datasets are blocking the most extreme outliers? Our estimators are too robust?”

Fitz turned to look at Simmons, actually looked at her. Normally his frustration with his own limitations kept his eye contact sparse but this time his baby blue eyes met her own and there was that spark of excitement, of discovery that had been missing for so long. “Oooh. That could be just what we need!” Fitz raised his right hand to adjust the map then realized it wouldn't quite do what he needed it to do and quickly switch back to using his left. His thrill with the possible breakthrough overrode his normal frustration with his impairment. “Then we could just flip it, right?” He twisted his hand, the map changed. “Look not at the collected data but the extreme deviations? The outliers our estimators scrap!” The image shifted again and this time there were far less splotches of color. Instead of millions of data points, they'd gotten down to thousands. It was definitely a start.

“Fitz, Simmons.” Director Coulson walked into the room. He looked unhappy. This was not unusual these days. For all that remained of their original team, happiness had been fleeting even on the best of days. “I'm going to need you to do some pattern analysis on the Evolutus Guard.”

Fitz and Simmons both burst out with protests at the same time. Simmons starting with, “But, sir, we've just had a great break with narrowing the search for Skye!” And Fitz continued on, “...only a few more hours, two, three at most, with this and we could probably have her route.”

Coulson held up a hand to stop the tangle of words. “This analysis will take priority. The search for Skye is going to have to be tabled for the time being.” He handed Simmons a flash drive which she reluctantly plugged into the edge of the table.

“You can't table Skye,” Fitz objected.

“I can and I have. We're partnering with the United States military to track and eliminate a terrorist cell that's been cutting a swath across the country. The body count is high and getting higher.”

Simmons started to pull up the image of the data on the flash drive but Fitz ran his right hand through the map. “Don't! I didn't save the set!” His jerky hand movement didn't save the map at all but rather let the new data points settle right on top of the old. Bright purple splashes now lay directly on top of the lines the quakes they'd been tracking had made. The yellows, greens and purples blended nicely and the result was obvious: these were corresponding paths. For an accidental glitch, this composite map was too perfectly aligned and the new purple dots ran a steady trail from the eastern seaboard to the West coast directly along the scattered quake points. 

Fitz and Simmons stared hard at the map. Silence descended on the room. Fitz swiped at the image twice more. Pulled up a time stamp and threw it to the side with a look at his partner. Simmons was the first to speak. “Sir, what did you say this data was again?”

“Evolutus Guard. They're a group of super-powered terrorists that have decided they'd like to eliminate the competition so to speak.” Coulson replied. “What's this telling you?”

“We were just narrowing down the path we think Skye took out of New Jersey, sir, based on seismic anomalies.”

Fitz pinched the image and twisted it. The colors shifted and most of the yellow and green dots vanished from the map. This time Simmons couldn't contain her reaction; she gasped.

“You both look like someone told you that Newton's Laws of Physics are inaccurate. Want to catch me up on what I'm looking at?”

Fitz started rambling, “Actually, it was the theory of quantum mechanics that definitively updated the standards that Newton's classical approximation...” until Simmons cut him off: “Sir, I don't think you should call off the search for Skye.” 

Coulson ran a hand across his face. “Jemma, I care about Skye too! I truly do.” His exasperation was really starting to bleed through. “I just...This just _has_ to take a higher priority right now.”

Simmons replied carefully, “That's just it, sir. I think that finding Skye might be the key to whatever your mission regarding Evolutus might be. We were really struggling to narrow down the outliers and pinpoint her path but with the Evolutus data on the screen, I think we might know where Skye's gone. And, with the timescale projected up on the map like that? It looks like Skye's being followed.”

Fitz nodded solemnly. “One or two overlaps in data could be a coincidence but this? That group? Murder and mayhem, right? Well, it looks like they're tracking right behind Skye.” 

Simmons nodded grimly and added, “And they have been. For months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ExcellentlyEllen expertly edits everything with exceptional elegance. (Thank you!)


	6. A Little Less Conversation

It was Kara Lynn who insisted they stop early on day three of Operation: Road Trip and it was for a perfectly Kara Lynn sort of reason too. Ward glanced again at the glossy rest stop flier she'd handed him. Glass jars with yellow caps and perkily personified pickles glinted back at him. “Tony Packo's Cafe, huh? So, this is a pickle thing? Like what? World's biggest pickle? Saltiest cucumber? Oldest relish?”

Kara Lynn rolled her eyes at him. “No. It's not a pickle thing – though they do seem to be selling that as merchandise. It's a bun thing. Hot Dog Bun Museum, Ward. If you actually opened that flier up instead of just looking at the cover it would tell you all you need to know.” Kara Lynn was crankier than normal. Ward didn't exactly blame her. Road trips always sound more fun than they are. After miles and miles of driving, everything just starts to cramp and complain. Yesterday's long haul from Missoula, Montana to Minneapolis had body parts, people, and dogs complaining non-stop today. He opened the flier just to appease her.

He heard Skye, Mike, and Zane clambering out of the rest stop talking animatedly. Mike was dutifully eating some vending machine pastry, Skye was choking back laughter. “There's no way, Ry. You can't be Bieber. You'll start a riot.”

“Also, I'm not dealing with that degree of annoying at the end of my day,” Mike supplied through a mouthful of cream and sprinkles. 

“Alright. Alright. But, it has to be someone that hasn't been there before...like a newish celebrity.” 

“Hey KL! Who do you think Ry should be?” Skye called out to Kara Lynn.

Ward was starting to feel a little lost in this conversation so he looked down at the flier again. When Kara Lynn had said 'hot dog bun museum', he'd expected a place that showcased different types of buns or maybe some dingy displays that demonstrated the process of making white paste into those ubiquitous, golden buns. This place did none of that. It was mostly just a diner and, from the looks of the chili dogs in the flier, he was going to have serious heart burn by the day's end. But the walls of said diner? Those, apparently, had enough paraphernalia to constitute Kara Lynn's use of the word 'museum'. The cheap wood paneling on the walls was covered with hot dog buns that had been affixed to it after, of course, they'd been signed by famous people and neatly saran wrapped. Art Garfunkel. Barack Obama and Joe Biden. Mr. T.... 

“What do you think, Ward? Kim Kardashian? Tom Brady? Someone else?” Skye chirped at him.

Ward was pretty sure he knew where this was going but he decided to ask just in case. “Care to catch me up to speed?”

Skye smiled and linked her arm into his. “We're going to a place that has _famous_ people sign hot dog buns. We're going there with a _shapeshifter_. It would be a crime not to have Ry sign a bun as someone.”

“Hell no. Absolutely not. We're trying _not_ to make a scene! Remember?”

“Ward's right.” Ward almost felt like hugging Mike Peterson for siding with him until the traitor added, “We need low-key famous. Not someone that every Harry, Dick, and Jane will know by their appearance alone. Like, I dunno, Stan Lee.”

Zane's eyes lit up. “Stan Lee? That's gold. His signature is super easy and no one would think twice about him having you lot as a posse. You could be like newbie writers or illustrators or something.”

Skye punched Zane in the arm. “Shut up. I could totally be in anyone's posse!” The other man just laughed her off and Ward really wanted to punch him again. Harder. A lot harder. 

He didn't get a chance to follow through because Zane, Kara Lynn, and Mike piled back into their vehicle leaving him to get Oscar and Skye back into the other car. They still had a few more hours before they rolled into Toledo, Ohio and he still had to suffer through Zane pulling the dumbest stunt ever. He wasn't sure what was going to be worse: the heart burn he'd get from the chili dogs or having to listen to the nasty, little peacock crow about his stupid exploit, or having his friends and _girlfriend_ be all dazzled by the trick.

In the end, it hadn't been so bad. Zane did crow but it was almost worth it having him dotter around as Stan Lee the whole night. He had more people recognize him than he'd expected and was cornered into giving a bunch of ten year olds an endless run of autographs. In other words, his stunt made him not exist in Ward's world for most of the evening. Better still, shapeshifting to such an unfamiliar form (or, more likely, having to answer a stream of endless questions from ten-year olds) had really taken it out of him. When they got back to the hotel, Zane had opted to retire immediately, claiming a headache. Ward couldn't think of anyone more deserving.

They'd been mostly splitting into three rooms on this trip since five was a terrible travel number. Kara Lynn and Mike had taken one room. Zane had gotten his own. Ward and Skye stayed together. This would have been a lot more titillating if they actually did anything other than sleep but they had been rolling into the motels late enough everyone barely made it through the door before passing out. 

Tonight, though, was different. After Zane had left, Kara Lynn, Skye, and Mike had decided they'd rather stay up a little later, grab something to drink, and hang out a bit. Two bottles of wine later, they were all sprawled around the beds in Mike and Kara Lynn's room absentmindedly playing UNO and discussing strategies on the side.

“There's no way your old access card will work, Skye. And if it does, it'll likely set off every alarm in the place. You'll have Fitz-Simmons, May, and Coulson descend on you in seconds...if you're lucky. Someone you aren't on familiar terms with if you aren't.” Ward objected before glancing down to throw a Draw Two on the pile earning a scowl from Mike who reluctantly added two cards to his hand.

Skye threw down a red nine and chirped, “Uno!” She let everyone shoot suspicious glances at her one remaining card before she reasserted her plan. “We only need a few minutes. Unless they're sitting right at the door, it'll take them awhile to get there? HQ is big. And, remember, I'm super-fast now...”

Kara Lynn just shook her head and changed the drop color from red to blue. Mike did the dissuading for everyone: “We really can't go in with a plan that's that tied to chance. We don't want any 'it'll be fine so long as' statements, Skye. S.H.I.E.L.D. may not shoot first with you but the rest of us aren't going to be so lucky.”

“You're right! That's exactly how to play it.” Skye dropped her last card on the pile (a wild) and the rest of the players groaned and threw their hands down in defeat. Skye was preternaturally good at all games. So far tonight, she'd been undefeated and the thrill of playing was waning for everyone else. 

“I'd play that way if I had the right cards.” Mike whined. 

“No. I mean, at HQ. If I'm the only one that is going to have a bit of a break getting in, send me in first.” Ward immediately started to make an objection so Skye rested a hand on his thigh to settle him. “Let me finish, Ward. What I meant, was send Ry in as _me_. He can use my card, get through the door, and immediately shift into something else. Something, uh, small or hard to see? If there are alarms that get set off, there won't be anyone to find once first responders get down there. It'll take them awhile to figure out what's going on and by then we could be done. Ten minutes!”

It was actually a fairly solid plan so long as they could trust Zane. Ward didn't like that part of it but it was a hell of a lot better than sending Skye into such a nebulous situation blind and alone. He thought back to the little that he knew of the facility and found it wasn't much. He'd mostly gone in and out of there with a bag over his head. He could give a vivid account of the size, quality, and spacing of the concrete squares that made up Vault D but that was hardly helpful. “There's a basement. Is there roof access?”

Skye nodded. 

“How's security up there?” 

“There's not much. Once you get to the top floors, you're in the old files' storage. Maybe a couple of keyed entries to get up there? Windows are all sealed and alarmed though. You can't go through them.”

Kara Lynn looked at Mike and Ward and chided, “We don't have a chopper or access to one so stop thinking big.”

“I'm not thinking big. I'm thinking _me_...” Mike smiled devilishly at that and added, “...which, I guess, is the same thing.” 

Ward almost cracked a smile too. He could see this plan taking shape. “How far can you jump? 10 feet? 20?”

“At least. I can get us all to the top of the building. We could even make it easy and just jump across from the building next door? That's what? 10-20 feet max, right? I can take you all...well, one at a time...across the roof tops. If Ry thinks he can manage getting into HQ as Skye, and getting up to the roof to let the rest of us in, this'll be a cake walk. S.H.I.E.L.D. will be so busy scrambling around downstairs trying to find Skye and figure out how she could just disappear, we can get in and out through the top without ever setting eyes on anyone!” His excited rush of words stalled out and he turned to Skye, “There is a terminal somewhere up there, right?”

Skye shrugged. “Not on the top floor, no. But two floors down, there's the command center. It's wired up with all the surveillance stuff. There's going to be someone in there for sure though. Can we ice them?”

“We don't have the luxury of having non-lethal ammo but we will keep the casualties to a minimum,” Ward replied reaching out to pull Skye towards him. She leaned into him without protest and he let his hand hook lightly around her waist. He knew Skye was very squeamish about casualties and, truly, if it was just a matter of a surprise takedown of one or two surveillance techs, he'd likely not even have to break any bones. 

Kara Lynn stretched like a cat, arching her back. She started pulling all the scattered cards back into a neat pile. “Well, if this plan holds up in the light of day tomorrow morning when we're all sober and Ry is actually around to agree to being the integral piece to the plot, we're all set but for tonight? I'm beat. Literally. I can't take playing any more games with Skye so Ward, you get her out of here.”

Ward smiled. “Yes, ma'am.”

Kara Lynn winked at him. “I didn't pack for you this time. You good?” 

Skye and Ward both blushed red at the comment and Ward's smile flattened into a line of annoyance. Mike must've thought this was the most hilarious thing ever from the way he was chortling. “We're fine. Thanks,” Skye offered as Ward pulled her out the door and let it slam behind him.

By the time they got back to their own room, Skye's full-face blush had settled to a little extra rose on her cheeks. She turned her large, brown eyes to look up at him. “Kara Lynn. Patron saint of condoms and roadside attractions. Kinda a sketchy specialty if you ask me.”

“I don't think you can be a patron saint of condoms.” The edges around Skye's eyes crinkled with her amusement, the brown of them turned a touch warmer. With her hair in slight disarray from their quick walk in the wind and the lingering blush on her cheeks, Ward could easily swear that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He didn't voice that thought but he did lean down to kiss her. The kiss was gentle at first, softly seeking permission, giving her ample opportunity to pull away. She didn't pull away though. Her arms came around him and her hands danced up his back, pushing his jacket off and pulling him in.

Ward turned so he could sit on the bed and dragged her on top of him. She straddled his lap as he pressed an array of feather light kisses down her neck. He stopped when his mouth met the collar of her shirt. “You know, this will be our first time...” He ran his hands under her tee, tugging it up and off, he then freed her from her bra. “...as an official couple.” 

Skye was making quick work of his shirt as she laughed. “Does that make it all that different?” She laughed so much now. The dark and sullen girl he'd been locked away with or the angry and violent one he'd encountered after his incarceration with S.H.I.E.L.D. had slipped away, back inside her. She had found her sparkle again. He wanted more of that, more of the effervescent sweetness of his Skye.

His view of her topless and astride him was almost too perfect to mess up but he had a point to make. With one hand splayed across her back, he flipped her on the bed and landed neatly on top of her. Bracing himself on his elbows, he pressed into her with a long, possessive kiss on the mouth. “The difference is now you're mine.” 

“ _Yours_? Possessive much?”

Ward was used to Skye being about two steps behind him in this relationship. He had been and likely would always be the one most invested in it. He wanted so badly to kiss a line down her body but this conversation needed to be made. “How else would you define it? Define us? There _is_ an us now, right? You have to know, I'd choose you over anyone else, anything else.” 

His dark eyes looked down into hers until she looked away. She kissed him quickly on the mouth and then pulled back to say, “Yes. There's an us now. I'm _yours_. Grant...” She looked up, straight into his eyes. The laughter was replaced with a seriousness, an intensity that Ward felt like an electric shock. “It's just that I don't want you to choose me over anyone, anything. I want you to do what's right...” She broke eye contact, briefly. The conversation was far too intense for semi-nude pillow talk and she seemed to just now realize that. Kissing him lightly on the tip of his nose, she added, “Just don't go dark on me again, k? That's the deal breaker.” _Go dark_. She said that like he could have made any other choice. Like she wasn't the reason he'd gone _light_ again. He didn't want to correct her though. If she'd make him pay for that Hydra debacle until they were old and gray, he didn't care. He liked the thought of them, old and gray, and still together. 

“Hmm...I think I can manage that.” He was decidedly done with the conversation. His hands glided up her body as his mouth worked its way down it. He planted little nips and licks from her neck to her navel until she was gasping. She shivered at his touch and once he pressed a lasting kiss just above the waistband of her pants, she shimmied out of her remaining clothing with superhuman speed. 

He hadn't shaved since they started this road trip and the shadow of his beard was lightly abrasive between her thighs as he finally reached his target. She tasted like contradictions. Sharp and smooth, tangy and sweet. There was no incongruity, no dark worries when she called out his name though. In that, there was only one thing: _need_.

She was his and she needed him. What else could he do but provide?

They were fortunate that their last day of driving would not be nearly as long as the others. They didn't have to roll out of bed at the crack of dawn to be on the road. As it was, they had time for a leisurely morning shower together. Skye was flicking through the channels on the TV while Ward checked his gear, his weapons, and repacked his bag.

“...Just on the edge of Lolo National Forest. The recently discovered victims are being added to a larger investigation of the mysterious group 'Evolutus Guard',” the anchor said in the grave tone such personalities only ever used for traffic reports and tragedies.

Skye turned up the volume. “...8 Camp Fire Kids and their chaperones were dismembered and killed at the scene. The photos are too graphic for television.” So, instead, they showed a series of smiling faces and uniformed campers. They left it to the imagination of the viewer to turn the happy campers into dismember corpses, the smiles into screams. “...federal authorities have been called to investigate...”

“Grant, did you hear that? It's Evolutus again.”

Grant folded his last tee shirt and tucked it on top of the rest. He shrugged then answered, “They've been in the news a lot lately but I'm not really following it. Should I be? You said they were Attilanian?”

“Yeah. And Lolo Creek... That's just, oh, what 50 miles west of Missoula?”

Ward turned to give her his full attention. “Yes.”

“And we were just in Missoula? Two days ago?” He didn't need to answer that. She knew well and fully where they'd been. She looked at him, worry clouding the brown of her eyes. “Do you think they're following me and Ry?”

“Have you run into them before?”

Skye shook her head. “I've never run into them exactly but they always seem to be a day or two behind where I am. That's weird, right? With how often I move?”

“Have you been broadcasting your location? Did you contact any more of those people?”

“Those people? God, Ward, you make it sound like we're all terrible creatures from the swamp,” Skye chided. “Of course I haven’t. I mean, I didn't really need to after I found Ry. But, Ward, I wasn't exactly broadcasting my location when Videmus picked me up either.”

Ward wanted to disagree there. He remembered following her then and she did nothing if not project her vulnerability. Still, he understood what she was trying to say. He offered the reassurance he didn't particularly feel. “Maybe it is just a coincidence?”

“Or maybe they just know? They know I'm one of them and they're coming to collect?”

“Well, if they do, they'll have a lot bigger fight on their hands than they bargained for.” Ward said that to combat her obvious anxiety but his platitudes did nothing to help his own growing disquiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one and only ExcellentlyEllen did her usual exceptional editing. She also provide the description of Ry as a 'peacock' which, if I may say so myself, is a pretty apt description of the fellow. Much thanks is owed!
> 
> And, thank _you_ , too, for reading, commenting, liking, etc. :)


	7. When Worlds Collide, Part 1

[S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters]

_Craig Parish_. It was such an obvious alias, it was painful to only stumble across it now, months into their search. Melinda May had to give it to Ward for being way more on the nose with his alias constructs than she had ever given him credit for. She'd always figured he'd have no sense of humor when it came to mission supports but having an alias that was synonymous with his own name? That was almost funny; she'd smile if he wasn't such a scumbag. Smiling was the last thing she wanted to do since this little discovery pointed to Skye being in a lot more trouble than anyone had previously thought.

AWOL had been bad enough. It wasn't like bringing her in was ever going to be all bear hugs and back pats. But, then, Fitz-Simmons had a pretty solid link that Evolutus was kicking around her trail and, now, this. Grant Ward. With his penchant for kidnapping Skye and pulling her into harm's way, May was starting to suspect AWOL hadn't been the issue at all. There's no way Skye would willingly be running with Ward. The frequency of “Craig Parish” credit card purchases that lined up to Fitz-Simmons' projected path, however, put them together. Their search for Skye had always assumed she'd left S.H.I.E.L.D. of her own volition but this? May hoped that Ward's goodwill towards Skye had somehow survived the four shots she'd landed in San Juan.

“Coulson. We've got a problem,” May said once she tracked him down. The last few months had not been good for the director. He clearly had the weight of the world bearing down on him and it made him look at least a decade older. She didn't want to add to that but this was information he needed to know.

He turned to her with a frown and muttered, “We've got more than one problem. What's the latest?” 

“Grant Ward...”

“Is a problem we've washed our hands of...”

“...has Skye.”

Coulson sucked in a breath at that. “For certain? Has he contacted us?”

“I'd lay odds at 99%. He's using the alias 'Craig Parish' and the credit line that goes with the name is matching Skye stop for stop.”

“Craig Parish? That's more on the nose than I would've given Ward credit for.”

May snorted, a thin smile creeping onto her lips. “I thought the exact same thing, sir.”

Coulson ran his hand across his face. Having Ward in the mix could be really, really bad. Or...“Do you think that Ward's involved in Evolutus?”

May contemplated the question for a painfully long time, her face held its careful blankness. Finally, she shook her head. “It's not his style. And Evolutus seems very keen on the whole master race thing. Ward may have talents but he's not up to snuff in their books.”

“Then, perhaps, for once things are looking up for Skye?” Coulson quirked an eyebrow at May. She didn't follow his line of reasoning. 

“You can't be serious. He's a sociopath that thinks she should be _his_.”

“Yes, but, we're running on the assumption that a whole group of murderous sociopaths are gunning for her. At least Ward can hold his own in a fight. It's a dubious benefit, sure, but I prefer Skye with the devil we know than with the devils we don't.”

“I'd prefer if all the devils were six feet under,” May grumbled as the door behind her slid open.

“Ah! Director Coulson. I'm glad to hear that some on your team holds my opinion on this Inhuman matter. That should make this conversation easier,” General Morris strode into the room with a very apologetic S.H.I.E.L.D. tech at his heels. Ten more ranking Army officers quietly filed in behind the General.

“General Morris,” Coulson said with a barely contained grimace. “We weren't expecting you today.” He did not acknowledge the other officers but the stiffening of his posture let May know he wasn't expecting any of them either.

The General did not bother with introductions. Niceties were the first casualty in most conversations with General Morris. He was direct and to the point. “You've heard the news, of course? 12 dead campers in Montana? Eight children? We need to step up our _progress_ on the Evolutus issue. Now.” 

“I assure you, General Morris, that everyone in my agency feels the urgency of this issue. I do not understand why you needed to make a personal show of force. I'm sure you and your men would better serve the cause elsewhere. I'm afraid, here, you will find that you're rather redundant.”

“I'm not questioning your agents' abilities, Coulson. There's no need to get into a snit.”

Coulson went rigid and every muscle in his face tightened. “I'm afraid you do not currently have clearance to be here. If you'd like, I can have Agent Koenig schedule a formal meeting. Tomorrow perhaps?”

“With all due respect,” Morris replied with none of the alleged respect hiding in voice or tone. “We're not here for a meeting – formal or otherwise. We're here to talk with the prisoners. If we have no clearance for this floor, we will make our way to the Vault now.”

“You have no clearance to be in the Vault either. I'm afraid I must insist you have a conversation with Agent Koenig about scheduling an appointment.”

“I'm sure you'll find that we do have clearance if you review the documents _you_ signed when your agency accepted the substantial settlement from the US Armed Forces for the continuation of the Inhuman detention. Like I said before, I'm not questioning your agents' abilities. I'm just saying that, perhaps, we will ask different questions and get different results.” He smiled a wide, white smile that was all teeth. “We're here to up this to an end game scenario and, I'm sure we can all agree that it is time for this game to end. Too many lives have been lost, too many more are at stake.” 

Coulson was livid and a pale rage flickered across his face. Even May, whose stoicism was legendary, could not keep the anger from sliding into her dark eyes. It was fortunate, then, that a frenetic Agent Koenig (Billy or Sam, only the agent in question would ever truly know) blustered into the room at that moment. He saved S.H.I.E.L.D. from an angry confrontation with the US Army that they could ill afford.

“Director Coulson, sir. I hate to interrupt but there's a...”

“Don't you dare say 'problem',” Coulson snapped.

“...ah...an _issue_ that needs your attention. It seems, sir, that Agent Skye has returned.”

Koenig had said the magic words that had both May and Coulson half way out the door before they realized they still hadn't gotten rid of their unwanted guests. Coulson turned back to the general. “Morris...this issue...we're bringing the end game right now. Just wait here. We will be back in a moment.” Coulson took a brief moment to relish the obvious confusion and jealousy that splashed across Morris' countenance before he was out the door dashing downstairs after Koenig and May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm getting to the tricksy part of this story and the intrepid assistance of ExcellentlyEllen has been profoundly necessary. Extra thanks for the edits! And, to the loyal readers/reviewers, your likes, comments, etc. spur my writing onward. Thank you!


	8. When Worlds Collide, Part 2

Kara Lynn and Skye had it easy. Mike just swung them up into his arms and jumped. But there was no way in hell Ward was going to let Mike Peterson carry him bridal style from one rooftop to the next. There was only so much abuse his dignity could take and that was way beyond the line. Riding on Mike's back like a four year old on an outing at the fair wasn't really that much better but Ward just couldn't make the 20 foot leap unaided. His deficiency stung. There was no real reason to be jealous of Mike Peterson; Ward wasn't oblivious to the pain he'd endured. Mike had been to hell and back for the additional powers he now possessed. Still, with more of his acquaintances becoming human-plus, Ward was starting to feel a little left behind; getting hauled into the mission like a kid chaffed.

The tattered remains of his dignity aside, the plan was rolling out smoothly. The tracker they had on Zane showed he'd made it safely into S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Once he shifted, that tracker was left dead on the floor. Although everyone was going to be flying blind until they reunited, the fact that the tracker was out, too, was a sign that things were going as planned. Everything was going so seamlessly, Ward had a feeling they were due for something seriously wrong once they got inside. There was no such thing as a perfect mission, after all.

Skye walked toward him and rested a hand on his back. “We're doing fine, right? In and out with no one the wiser?”

Ward wasn't sure if she was asking for reassurance or trying to ease his own tension but he nodded. “That's the plan.” His own tension wasn't going anywhere until this mission was done. There were still a lot of variables in play, still a lot of objectives that hadn't been accomplished. The roof access door rattled. Ward leveled his gun at it and held his breath – Skye, no, Zane walked through the door and blew him a kiss. The real Skye smirked as her doppelganger shifted back into her friend. Ward would've given Zane a scalding scowl of disapproval for his cheek if he hadn't just come through for them. Instead, he ignored the taller man. They were in. It was like a row of dominoes stacked just right. One by one each completed task tipped them neatly into the next. 

Zane reassured them that nearly all agents were converging to the first floor entryway. He'd come in disguised as Skye, looked right into the security camera, and disappeared. Technically, he'd just become a mouse and scurried off to the next floor before shifting back to human but that's not how it would show on the security feeds. The whole of S.H.I.E.L.D. had to be in an uproar.

Ward took point coming into the building. He hated having Zane at his back. Ward knew he was the quickest shot in the group however, so strategically, he needed to be in the front. The stairs to the roof were narrow and single file was the only option going down. Just as Skye had said, the top floor was dark, deserted. No agents came up to this floor often—or ever—from the looks of the dust coating the tops of the file cabinets. The darkness, the silence of the top floor made Zane's supposition stronger too. S.H.I.E.L.D. must be busy elsewhere.

Another floor down and Ward knew that whatever alarm the faux Skye had triggered had been total: all hands to the first floor. S.H.I.E.L.D. was in such an uproar, they had left the surveillance room totally unattended. The door was open, the soft glow of the monitors painted them all in shades of blue as they walked in. Before Ward could blink, Skye was already click-clacking away at the first terminal she could get her hands on. “Skye, if someone decides to come back up this way, which direction are they going to be coming from?” Ward asked watching as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Uh. There's an elevator over there. Down the hall. To the right.” Skye said with a quick head bob directed away from where they had just come in. “If they come back, that's the most likely point of arrival. The stairs, where we came in, might be a cause of concern for one or two agents that just happen to stroll by.”

Kara Lynn waved a hand to Mike and Ward. “I've got dibs on the stairs. You two can handle the elevator full of agents pouring onto the floor. That's totally up your alley, right? Where are we on time, Skye?”

“I'm downloading their files now. We got...” she eyed the monitor, then her watch. “Eight minutes.”

Kara Lynn sauntered off as Mike turned toward Ward. “There's no way you're leaving her here alone?”

Ward shook his head, mentally girding himself to justify his need to stay by Skye's side.

He didn't need to worry. Mike Peterson just smirked at them and waved. “I've got the elevator. Eight minutes. See ya then.” 

“How's it looking downstairs?” Zane asked, eyeing the monitors.

The entry way security feeds were not the ones playing on the screens in front of them, however. As soon as he looked at them, Ward knew that much instantly. These feeds showed the Vault: those familiar concrete squares and confined spaces. _Home sweet home_. Skye leaned passed him to get a closer look. Ward, too, eyed the monitors and found there was more that was familiar in the scene than just the setting. He _knew_ the people in containment. The eyeless man, Videmus, who had held Skye and him captive months ago was surrounded by menacing looking men in uniform. The next screen showed the blue feathered boy that Ward had once knocked unconscious in Jersey. Again, the uniformed men loomed in. There were 3 more screens, 3 more obviously inhuman inmates, and 3 more sets of angry guards.

“Can you turn on the sound? What are they saying?” Zane asked as he avidly watched the screens.

Skye fiddled with the computer in front of her. The sound on the first monitor clicked on.

“...lies, monster. I'm sick of weeding through your lies.” A large man growled as his hand came up under Videmus's chin, jerking the much smaller man from the chair he'd been in. The chair tipped back and clattered to the floor. “You can claim all you want that you know nothing about Evolutus but I'm sure that's not entirely true. Perhaps, we should give you more of an incentive to answer our questions this time?”

The other officer, a lieutenant, smiled before pulling out an ebony box and tapping it lightly on the lid. To his right, Skye whispered, “They've got his eyes.” Ward remembered that box, and Videmus's eerily detachable eyes too, but his focus wasn't on the object. The man he'd once seen as an adversary recoiled from the military officers in fear. Before this moment, Ward hadn't been sure that Videmus could visibly blanch. With his eyes hidden deep in that ebony box, so much of his fear, of his body language was tucked away in the recesses of his pockets. But, Videmus no longer had pockets. He no longer had the box. It had weakened him considerably. The once formidable captor was a shell of man now. He showed his fear just as obviously as anyone else. His blank face, sickly pale to begin with, was leeched of all color. “I...I...I told Director Coulson everything I know. I've done everything you've asked. Please...” The stammering whine in his voice played to a quiet room.

“More lies! Monster, I'm not a patient man. _I_ will decide if you've told us everything or not. And _I_ don't think you've told enough. Your little friends are still running amok, murdering children, and _I_ am going to put a stop to it.” The giant man held out his hand and his Lieutenant settled the box into the plate sized palm. Opening the box, the behemoth pulled out one of the eyeballs by its twining feelers. The weird tentacle-like ribbons danced and grappled with the air. Ward wondered if the eye knew how much danger it was in or if it was just responding to the stress of its owner. “You are all alike, you inhumans. Creeps and sideshow freaks. But your cross-country horror show is going to come to an end today.” He pulled out a lighter and flicked it open. “Tell us where to find Evolutus and we will return your...eyes.”

“I don't know,” Videmus repeated, pitch getting higher, voice getting thinner. “Truly. I know nothing. There are many factions, many people. This group you seek, they are not my own. Please, I beg you... release me, release us and we will never come back.”

“There are so many ways to make sure you never come back. I'm inclined to use other methods than catch and release.” The man said as he settled the flickering flame of the lighter just under the dangling eye. The tentacles waved wildly as if they were consciously trying to get away from the heat but the eye had nothing to grip. “Things that come in pairs are so nice for moments like this. I don't think you're taking us seriously enough. So, we will demonstrate just how intent we are about these questions and, then, perhaps you'll find that telling us everything is truly in your best interests? Don't worry. Having one eye is better than having none. I'm sure you understand that much at least?” Videmus moaned in response. He grasped blindly for his eye to no avail. 

At first, there was just a soft sputter that slowly grew louder until the eye was steaming and the wet puffing sound became a dramatic sizzle. It was like the sound of fajitas being brought to the table. The meaty, oily, snap, crackle, and pop – and pop it did. When the eye got too hot, it simply burst into a soft splatter of glossy effluvia. The sizzle was replaced with a low and agonized howl as Videmus collapsed onto the floor. 

Ward wasn't entirely sure what game S.H.I.E.L.D. had going on. As the monitor screens flashed in front of him, he could see that Videmus was not the only inhuman enduring torture. More uniformed guards were ripping feathers off, by the handful, from the blue bird boy shown on the second screen. Others were prying the fingernails off a third man whose inhumanity seemed to rest with his scaly, crocodile-like skin. Ward knew, beyond a doubt, the uniformed officers terrorizing these inhumans were not S.H.I.E.L.D. per se. Still, it wasn't as if you could just waltz into the Vaults without S.H.I.E.L.D.'s permission. Protocol on interrogating prisoners seemed to have changed dramatically since Ward last worked with the black and gray eagle on his arm. With a glance to his left, Ward saw Zane zealously watching the interrogations. Ward was rather impressed that, given his own inhuman nature, Zane maintained his implacable calm. Skye, on the other hand, was a mess. If she were a cartoon character, Ward had no doubt fire and smoke would be streaming from her ears, her nose. Her eyes sliced across the screens. Her breathing was so rapid, she was on the verge of hyperventilating. The horror and rage she felt was an almost palpable force. Quickly, he moved to place a hand on her shoulder. The last thing they needed right now was a city-shattering quake. 

“The mission, Skye.” He said to redirect her attention. “How much time is left?” 

Skye twisted toward him but didn't have a chance to respond before the sharp crack of a fired gun came from the direction of the stairs. As one, they turned to the door of the surveillance room. Kara Lynn came running down the hall with Coulson hot on her heels. They turned into the room without slowing so Ward had little time to get his own gun up and trained on Coulson. He was nearly ready to take the shot before he realized his mistake. The woman running into the room was _not_ Kara Lynn. Identical but for the absence of the jarring facial scar, Melinda May had barreled into the room ahead of Coulson. Before he could blink, May delivered a devastating kick to his midsection which had brought Ward, winded, to his knees.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Coulson asked. He glared, briefly, at Ward before turning his attention back to Skye. “Skye...is that...? Are you really here? Are you alright?”

Skye, however, was not interested in a status check. The waves of anger were still rolling off her and now she had someone to direct it at. The lights flickered and the static on the monitors increased sharply. “That's a fabulous question, Coulson. What the _hell_ is going on here?” She gestured angrily to the monitors behind her and three of the five shattered, sending fragments of glass and sparks shooting out into the room. “When the _hell_ did you start mutilating prisoners?”

To his credit, Coulson looked as if the mutilating prisoners bit was news to him. He glanced quickly at the remaining monitors and muttered a curse. His loss of composure was short lived, however. Like Skye, he seemed to have only one emotion: mindless anger. He went on the attack. “I don't find the need to justify myself to you. We thought you'd been kidnapped! Or worse! When did you decide to switch to Hydra, Skye? Of all people, I'd think you'd know better than that.”

“I'm not Hydra,” Skye hissed.

“Could've fooled me with the company you keep. What did you do? Look up a list of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s least favorite lowlifes before you left? May took out Agent 33 in the hall by the stairs. And Ward? Really Skye? When did you decide to sink so low?”

Kara Lynn was down and out if she'd had an encounter with May. Ward hoped she wasn't too injured, that Mike would get to her, get her out of S.H.I.E.L.D. Shifting slowly, Ward didn't let May get out of his peripheral vision as he tried to see if Zane was still in the room. He must have changed to something a whole lot smaller because neither May nor Coulson seemed to think there was a third interloper in the room and the normally 6'3” man was hard to miss. Their situation was hardly promising but, if Zane could pull through here, Ward would reconsider Skye's high opinion of the man.

“Lowlifes? Oh, yes. I forgot that was the new S.H.I.E.L.D. motto. _Some_ people are better than others. Protect the masses and lock up the rest. When did _I_ sink so low? About the time S.H.I.E.L.D. made it clear that my life was valued more as a test rat than an agent. God! That's all you've ever wanted from me, isn't it? At first, I was to be contained, silenced, hidden...no, _redacted_. Then when I suddenly had power, I was to be cultivated and tested and experimented on. I see you're moving onto the next level. When am I scheduled to be handed over to your military cronies to be cut up?”

Skye landed that barb well. Coulson practically reeled back before he plowed on. “Yes. Let's talk about slicing people up. Is Hydra working to do a little murder for hire now? It is striking that you've been to every single place there's been an Evolutus murder these last few months.” Coulson's ire flipped towards Ward. “I thought you weren't for the whole Nazi agenda, Ward, but now it's all about the survival of the strongest and culling the weak? That's sounding a little more like promoting a master race than not. You do realize that you aren't one of them? They're using you as much as Garrett used you. I'm sure they'll let you play toy solider for awhile but in the end, you're only human.”

Ward was not paying much attention to the exchange of heated words but, rather, towards the little gray mouse that had just scurried past Skye. Coulson's efforts to bring him into the conversation worked in his favor, however. If he could drag Coulson and May toward him, Zane would have a chance to change back and get Skye clear of this mess. Taking a breath, Ward plunged into the verbal melee. “I don't know, _Phil_. If we're running comparisons here, it seems like you have a nice little torture camp set up downstairs. How are we to be sure it isn't you that switching sides now?” He quirked his brow up and sneered. He hadn't seen Coulson look so murderous since he'd plugged Lola with some hasty shots. 

It was a good thing that Skye was so able to push all of Coulson's buttons. With concerns to Ward's manipulations, Coulson was normally so unflappable but, this time, he took the bait and came at him. He waited until Coulson took his first swing and barely scrambled out of the way. With Coulson's back to Skye, now was the perfect time. “Get. Her. Out. Of. Here. NOW!” Ward spat at the mouse and, to his credit, the mouse did just that. He became something more than human, solid and huge. The golem creature pulled a confounded Skye towards the door. As they fled down the hall, the ground beneath their feet quivered and the remaining screens burst into a shower of glass and smoke. 

Jumping back from another of Coulson's ill-timed swings only put Ward in the way of a crippling kick from May. He went down again and had to roll through the broken glass in order to avoid her follow through. Fighting alongside her doppelganger for months had given Ward the bad habit of assuming she'd have his six instead of assuming she'd attack it. He wasn't going to win this fight but, hopefully, he could buy Mike, Kara Lynn, Skye, and Zane enough time to get clear. Coulson was using his comm to send other agents after them but with Deathlok's strength, Skye's speed, and Zane's plasticity, they should be able to push their way through. If worse came to worse, Skye could just bring the whole building down.

He set his bloodied palms down and started to spring up when he felt May's heeled boot come down on his neck. He could feel his nose break as it slammed into the ground hard but he was thankful that was the worst of it; he'd narrowly missed landing on a pool of razor sharp glass fragments. He felt cold steel press into the back of his head and heard the click of a primed weapon as May racked the slide. Her soft voice was hard to hear over the harsh staccato of his own breaths. “This isn't an icer, Ward. Please, give me an excuse to use it.” 

He held his breath and the room fell into absolute silence until Coulson broke it by striding toward them. His boots crunched across the glass strewn floor. “Who was that?” 

Ward didn't answer at first but May's consistent pressure on the gun, caused the muzzle to dig painfully into his scalp. He let himself press further into the floor before he answered. He made sure his answer was garbled by the blood he was breathing in and the floor he was pressing against.

Coulson must have gestured for May to let him rise because her boot and the gun no longer held him down. Cautiously, he pulled himself into a crouch. May was still behind him and Coulson stood, arms crossed in front of him. “Don't make me repeat the question.”

Playing for time, Ward was as obtuse as possible with his answer. “That was Zane.” 

“And who is 'Zane' affiliated with? Hydra?”

“I don't know his affiliations.”

Coulson huffed. “I don't believe you'd take just anyone onto your team. You're not that trusting...or stupid.”

Ward shrugged lightly and heard May shift closer to him. Movement of any sort was probably not a good idea. For one, he hurt everywhere. And, two, May seemed a little trigger happy right now. “Zane joined us with Skye a week ago. He comes in on her recommendation.”

“That's a lie.” This statement came from behind him, from May. “We know you've been traveling with Skye since New Jersey.”

“Do you now? How do you figure that?”

“Craig Parish ring any bells?”

Ward couldn't help himself. He laughed. His broken nose did not mix well with his laughter. Pain lanced through his face and he ended up choking slightly on the blood. Only after spitting out a red glob of it was he was able to talk again. “I swear to you, the first time I'd seen Skye since New Jersey was on February 14th. She had a need for our assistance with a project and we decided to oblige her.” 

“Sweet Valentine, Ward. Most people just do flowers and chocolates. You don't deny that you were in New Jersey?”

Ward shook his head. What use was there in denying that? If they'd been torturing Videmus for intel, they likely already knew.

Coulson was not looking at him but at May. Ward really wished he could turn to see her without getting a bullet in the back of the head. Not knowing what she was doing behind him meant Ward had no way to gauge how tenuous his situation currently was. Coulson and May had gotten even more uncannily in-tune with each other. Ward had gotten fairly handy at reading their body language and ascertaining some of what they seemed to just know but, with only Coulson in his line of sight, he was failing there too.

Coulson and May's non-verbal powwow finally ended. “It seems that we have a lot to discuss,” Coulson said with the barest hint of a smirk. “Luckily for you, we've still got your old room all ready. Do you think you'll manage the walk down to the vault without trouble or do we need to put you out first?”

“I can manage,” Ward said quickly. He wanted to see as much as he could. If he was going to have to try to find a way out of Headquarters on his own, he needed to know more of the layout. 

“Good. Hands behind your back then.”

When Ward complied, May tightened zip ties to his wrist. She made them several clicks tighter than was strictly necessary but Ward did his best not to show his discomfort. He stood and then his world went black as May tied a blindfold across his eyes. He should have known they'd do that. Neither Coulson nor May would willingly give him any advantage. Without vision to aid him, Ward had to rely on other methods to map his terrain. He counted their steps. Four steps through broken glass got them to the door of the room. They turned left and went 30 paces more before a sharp right. Three more steps and they were at the elevator. Mike must have already cleared out. May pushed Ward into the lift and he would have lost track of everything at this point had the elevator not been so ancient. The archaic chime that sounded on each passing floor was his saving grace. Ten chimes, ten floors. Down, down, down and, then, they were in the Vault. Or, they should have been. 

Ward thought he'd be better able to identify the Vault even with the blindfold blocking his sight. He could remember the low-grade hum of the security doors, the oily darkness of the ill-lit basement, the dank, earthy smell. But, as the elevator doors slid open and they took one, two, three steps onto the floor, Ward couldn't sense any of that. Something was wrong. There was no sound, no buzz. Instead of a greater darkness, it seemed impossibly light. Even through the dark cotton of the blindfold across his eyes, he could sense the brightness. It was almost like someone had opened wide the curtains of a big window to let some natural light in but that was impossible. There were no windows in the Vault. Worse, the earthy smell of the Vault was corrupted by the bitter metallic smell of blood. May tugged sharply on his arms and brought him to a halt. She applied a sharp pressure to the back of his legs which, again, brought him down to the floor. The blind was loosened and slid down around his neck and he found himself on his knees, with his hands tied behind his back starring down the barrel of two guns: Coulson's and May's. 

“I honestly didn't think even you would sink this low. This...this is just sick.” Coulson grated out and Ward turned his head to try to figure out what was going on. The hum was gone because the power grid had been shorted, the light was all sourced from the gaping hole in the wall that led up and out. The bright sunlight didn't make it fully into each of the rooms; its reach wasn't that strong. But, Ward could make out just the edge of the room he knelt beside. It was dripping in gore. The sightless eyes of a detached head stared back at him, an arm dangled from a chair. Someone had made a jail break. Badly.

“How do you suppose I had anything to do with this? I was up ten floors getting my face broken in by you.”

Coulson didn't even blink. “How long have you been working with Evolutus? Is this a Hydra pet project or have you flipped to a new side already?”

“I'm not working with Evolutus. Or for Hydra.” Ward's mind was racing. A jail break...now. By who? Did someone else break into S.H.I.E.L.D. while they were there? Or...

The click of Coulson's gun pulled his attention back to the other man. “Stop lying, Ward.”

If he could have, he would have held up his hands to show compliance. But with them tied behind him, he really had no way to further minimize himself. Kneeling and bloodied, he was at the mercy of a very angry Coulson. He looked passed the barrel of the gun and gave Coulson his most unwavering eye contact. “I. Am. Not. Evolutus.” 

Coulson looked truly pained by his next question. “Is Skye Evolutus?” Ward understood Coulson's pain. He felt that question like a physical blow.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You said that you hadn't been with her until, what, two weeks ago? How can you be so sure?”

Ward stared at Coulson, hard. “Because she's Skye.” Their eyes remained locked. It was entirely juvenile but this battle of wills was going to be won by whoever didn't look away, whoever didn't blink first. 

Coulson blinked. “We've been wrong about her before...Rising Tide?”

Ward shook his head. “No. Not this. Not Skye.” But now? Skye _was_ with Evolutus. It was the only possibility. Zane had been in charge of getting her out of S.H.I.E.L.D. and it looked like he'd done just that, with a dripping, armless body count to boot. Zane had Skye; Evolutus had Skye. He needed to get to her and, in order to do that, he'd need S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help. “Please. Let me tell you everything. Everything that happened after San Juan. We need to be on the same page and, right now, I think we're reading different books.” 

Coulson nodded. They weren't going to make this easy on him, clearly. So, kneeling in blood that was not just his own, hands still secured behind him, Ward started to tell his story. 

Not that anyone was keeping track of such things but, if they were, this would mark the first fully honest conversation he'd ever had about himself with Coulson and May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Extra thanks to ExcellentlyEllen for breaking the block I had on this chapter. Also, as usual, the tidiness of the piece is largely due to her editing skills. :)
> 
> Thanks, too, to the commenters on the last chapter. I hope this encounter lives up to your expectations!


	9. Eyes to the Sky(e)

Anger makes you stupid and Skye's confusion was a testament to that stupidity and the strength of her anger. Skye had entirely forgotten that Ry was in the surveillance control room until he shifted into a flinty giant and pulled her out the door. Her entire existence had narrowed down to two feelings; the burning anger of betrayal and cold feeling of loss. Neither of those emotions were quite able to handle the reemergence of her friend. Ry had dragged her half way down the stairs before the fog of her rage lifted enough for her to think with any sort of clarity. 

And, then, her first thought was still blighted by stupidity. She thought that at least May and Coulson wouldn't kill Ward... 

The revelations of the last ten minutes finally settled into her mind like a rock hitting a standing pool. The May and Coulson she thought she knew wouldn't kill Ward but they wouldn't have been torturing Attilanians in the basement either. Anything, everything was possible now.

Skye let a jolt of her seismic energy run up Ry's stone arm and he released her with a yelp, shifting back to his preferred human form. Quickly, she turned and started back up the stairs. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going?” Ry said, grabbing her arm. Even though he was back to being mere flesh, he was a rather large person and his grip firmly halted her progress up the stairs.

“We've got to help Ward,” Skye huffed using her nails to attempt to pry his hand off her arm. 

Ignoring the bite of her nails, Ry tightened his hold. “No. Ward told me to get you out. That's what I'm doing. Mike will come back for him once Kara Lynn is clear. He's got this, Skye. He'll be fine.” 

Skye wanted to object but he continued “...but we won't be unless we get out of here. Remember what they were doing to people like us?” 

Skye remembered all too well. She hated leaving Ward to fend for himself but Ry had a point. Ward, hopefully, would be able to take care of himself until Mike could get him free. The Attilanians in the basement, on the other hand, _needed_ them. Skye turned again and continued down the stairs at a faster clip than before. “Alright then. Let's get them out.”

“No. No. No.” Ry repeated unnecessarily. “Let's get _us_ out. There's at least ten military guards down there. How do you think we'll manage that?” 

“What was your plan again? Go out the first floor? There's only every other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent milling around looking for _me_. The basement is our best bet. No one will think to go down there. The electric doors, the alarms are going to be open wide and shut off respectively since they have agents in those rooms. This should be easy. You can turn into something, uh, big – and maybe bullet proof? Just surprise them, knock out one set of guards at a time, clear each room one by one?”

“The _last_ mission we went on was going to be easy and look how that's rolling out. Kara Lynn probably has a bullet in her. Ward's up with Team Torture and we're fleeing into a basement with no exits.” Ry muttered behind her. Skye let him grumble; she knew he'd come around in 3...2...1... “Fine. _Great_. So, now I'm in for a single-handed rescue mission? What are you going to be doing while I do all the heavy lifting?” 

Skye smiled grimly. “I'll be getting us out.”

They made their way into the Vault quietly. Skye immediately went to the furthermost wall and pressed her hands against it. She could hear Ry start his fight and then she pushed him from her mind, pushed away any nervousness too. She was well aware that they were in the heart of New York City and unleashing the fullness of the force inside her just couldn't be an option. For months, she'd been working on control. On leashing the power, harnessing it, channeling it. Her power felt like running hot water over icy hands: jagged, tearing, needle pricks of pain, at first, but then the heat washed away the hurt and there was only the feeling of movement, the rush, rush, rush of energy pouring out of her palms. Her world narrowed to the feel of the glorious warmth of her energies curling out of her palms. The brick under her hand trembled and slowly loosened. She pressed harder. Her hands sank into the wall as more bricks cracked, crumbled, and turned to dust. Slowly, she walked forward pushing her way out of the underground bunker, through the concrete foundation and into the cold, damp earth. When she broke through to ground level and the golden rays of sunlight flickered across her mud streaked face, Skye couldn't help but whoop. She crawled out into an alley, tall buildings blocked three sides but she could crane her neck up and see the azure sky above. It was enough. Turning back, she looked to the ground. The blue-feathered boy was standing right behind her so she reached down her hand to help pull him out. 

One by one, she helped the battered Attilanians out of the hell they'd been surviving for months. Five of them in all, followed, at last, by Videmus. As she pulled him out of the ground, Skye considered how weird it was that she was leading the prison break for someone who'd been her jailer. She didn't dwell on it for long. She could contemplate the weirdness of the world when they were all free and clear.

“Where's Ry?” Skye asked looking at the dazed faces around her. None of them seemed able to answer her. She wasn't sure if that was because they did not know, did not understand, or were just too broken from their incarceration to function. They stared up at the sky and ignored her.

“Where's...uh...the tall guy?” She waved her hand up above her head futilely. She knew that it was a terrible description as Ry had probably not been a “tall guy” when he broke them out. She was just on the verge of giving up and crawling back into the darkness at her feet to find Ry on her own when Videmus's hand came to rest softly on her shoulder. 

“I'm glad you're well, sweet girl. We need you now, more than ever.”

Aside from her desire to do what was right, to get them out of their wrongful incarceration, Skye really had no desire to get all palsy-walsy with Videmus of his crew. The man gave her the creeps. She shrugged his hand from her shoulder and asked again, “Where is Ry? The other one?”

“He is coming,” Videmus replied, nodding slowly. “I sent him back...for my eyes.”

Skye didn't think she'd ever forget the sound of Videmus's eye as it sizzled and popped and, momentarily, she felt a little guilty for brushing the man aside so abruptly. She bit her lip and then looked at him. He'd aged years in the months since she had last seen him. S.H.I.E.L.D. had not treated him well. “Will you be alright? With just one?”

“I could have them both if you would only grant them to me.”

Immediately, her guilt was vanquished by his continued creepiness. “Yeah. Sure. Eyeball granted.” Throwing a glance at the ground, she was more than delighted to see Ry clawing is way up and out of the her tunnel.

“Are you okay?” Skye asked eyeing the smear of blood on his shirt. Ry's shifting always left him so pristine most of the time. The blood stain was unusual. He followed her line of sight down and saw that his clothing was besmirched and, in the blink of an eye, Ry was the only person in the alley who was not entirely filthy from head to toe.

He smiled his charismatic, bright grin. “One of the guards woke while I was down there.” He punched the air. His fists flew – left, right, left. “I think I broke his nose in the second go around.”

Skye rolled her eyes at his showboating. “We should head back to the hotel. Meet up with Mike, Kara Lynn...hopefully, Ward will already be there.”

Ry's fanciful fist fight with the air stopped, his smile dropped off his face. “We can't go back to the hotel, Skye. That's the first place that S.H.I.E.L.D. will think to look. I'm sure they've got our aliases, our credit lines.”

Skye shook her head. “It doesn't matter. We need to find our team.”

Ry looked at her consideringly. “I think I got that covered. There's an abandoned apartment about 10 blocks north of here. Let's go there. We'll take this lot, settle in, and I can go see what's happening with Mike and KL...and Ward.”

“Why do we have to take them with?” Skye said, lowering her voice. She was all fine and good with getting the Attilanians out of the torture prison but it wasn't as if she really wanted to be the nursemaid for the crazy lot who'd been out for her blood only a few months back.

“If we leave them here, we might as well drag them back inside their cells and lock the door. And, no. You will not go with me. _You're_ the one they're looking for. If every police officer in the city doesn't already have an APB with your face on it, I'd be shocked. Me? They can't look for _me_.” 

Ry had a point there too. Damn it.

That was how Skye found herself in a derelict apartment complex with five Attilanians who didn't seem to have any interest in talking. All of them needed rest or medical care or both. Skye had no ability to provide them with either. They, unfortunately, also needed a lesson on how staring was creepy and blinking was totally a normal thing to do. Well, normal for everyone that wasn't Videmus but _he_ had a whole other set of problems. If only he had no interest in talking...

“I know you don't understand but let me show you!” Videmus rasped at her again.

“This is just sick and wrong. This whole blood swapping thing? It's...dirty. And gross. And weird. And no!” Skye said for what felt like the millionth time.

“It isn't a swap. There's no exchange here. You give, we receive. Your blood, Skye, has regenerative properties. Let me show you.” This time, he held out the mangled remains of his one eyeball. Skye was going to have a long and angry conversation with Ry when he got back about that. There really was no need for him to go and scrape the floor to retrieve Videmus's eye. Especially since she'd somehow lost her cellphone in the Vault too. Instead of finding that, something useful, Ry had been too busy scraping eye goo up for a mad man. Giving him the box with the intact one should have been good enough. The one-eyed look was totally fine. Fury rocked it. Videmus could too. Sorta. 

“If I give you some of my blood and you see...er...I mean...If we can fully demonstrate that it doesn't do anything magical or mystical, will you leave me the fuck alone?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Fine. _Awesome_.” Skye patted her pockets until she found her utility knife. Taking it out, she sliced lightly across her pointer finger until a thin trail of blood beaded out. “How much?”

“Not much. A few drops, perhaps?”

Pressing on her finger, Skye let the warm blood drip over the congealed mess that had once been an eye. The older man was carrying it around on top of a plate he'd scavenged from somewhere. There was absolutely nothing about this experience that was sanitary and Skye, briefly, wondered if she'd doomed herself to some weird bacterial infection just by opening the very small cut on her finger. She watched as her blood dripped down and the whiteness of the broken eye tinged pink. 

Nothing happened.

“Satisfied? Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen. We're done with this blood stuff, okay?”

Videmus just hummed softly, cupping the destroyed orb close to himself. “You'll see, girl. You'll see.”

There was only one answer she could give to that: “Aghhh!” She threw her hands into the air. Skye gave up on trying for a sane conversation and left the Attilanians to nurse themselves. Ry would be back soon. Hopefully, he'd have Kara Lynn, Mike, and Ward in tow and she'd be free from this otherworldly insanity.

She _really_ wanted Ward just now. She wanted to burrow into the safety of his arms and cry. Cry for her lost humanity. Cry for the desecration of her heroic ideal. Cry for the family she'd thought she had in S.H.I.E.L.D. and for the one she'll likely never find now that the mission had failed and her flash drive remained two floors down from the roof access and ten floors up from where S.H.I.E.L.D. had lost its soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, ExcellentlyEllen has been rocking the editing on this piece. She's helped with structure and writers block and is just a generally amazing person. Her own story, "All is fair...(but this is not love, it's war)" just updated so, if you like great Skye/Ward plot!fics check it out.


	10. Tick Tock

Orion Zane walked quickly against the flood of mid-afternoon traffic. He shifted continually. Short and skinny to slip in between commuters with their heads down and their eyes on the screens of their phones. Broad and plump to push past confused tourists standing in the middle of the sidewalk blocking traffic. New York was a wonderful city. No one really wanted to pay attention to anyone else. There was far too much else to look at. He was practically invisible and that suited him just fine right now. 

Zane was in a rush. He didn't want to leave Skye on her own for long. She was too resourceful and if she got a hold of her teammates before he did, he'd lose her. And, if there was one thing Zane knew, it was that he couldn't lose Skye. 

Skye was proof positive that the world could make sense; that _they_ made sense. Skye showed him there was good left in the world for people like him. She was the reward he'd get for all his suffering, all his pain.

He deserved Skye; he'd earned her. 

He just needed to make sure she saw that too.

The problem with good people, and Skye in particular, was that they couldn't see the bigger picture. She'd miss the forest for the trees. Right now, she thought of him as a loveable friend, a fellow Attilanian, a mentor. If she knew he was involved in Evolutus, she wouldn't see all the good it was bringing into the world; she'd only see the bad. She wouldn't see the group that had saved a scarred and battered orphan from the hands of ignorant, abusive humans. She wouldn't see how brutal and twisted humanity was as a species. She'd just see the deaths and the pain instead of the artistry of it, the possibility of a better future. She was such a tender hearted girl, she'd want to stop the dead from dying, she'd want to set back the clock. He loved that about her and didn't want to change that compassion she had entirely. It would be what would make her into such a wonderful helpmate one day. She just needed to learn that such compassion was wasted on humans; she just had to see how bad the rest of the world was for people like her. People like them.

Zane almost laughed out loud at the scene that S.H.I.E.L.D. had, unintentionally, set up for them. Truly, it was another sign that his path was divinely guided. To Zane, it was clear that Skye's S.H.I.E.L.D. friends hadn't been the group so tangle up in the brutalization of the prisoners, Skye didn't see that. She was just one push, one betrayal away from understanding that humanity might have been earth's masters in the past but the present? The future? That was for Evolutus to decide.

Now, he just needed to give that push. 

Turning, he enter the dirty, beige building that served as the neighborhood community center. It was just after 4PM on a school day. Some after-school program or craft activity or tutoring session had to be taking place. The timing couldn't get more perfect. It was too early for many of the parents to come collect their filthy, little offspring. Time was on his side. 

Working for Evolutus had taught him the power of symbols, the power of fear. Killing children was essentially killing the future. It was a blunt message; there was no finesse there. It was not as artistic and intricate as some of his colleagues would have preferred. He, however, made up for its lack of artistry in other ways. For him, it felt right, these children. Children, after all, had been the ones that had tormented him the most for his differences. Before he knew how to handle his powers, before he could blend in and be invisible, he'd been their victim. 

And, now, the tables had turned. Literally. 

Zane stormed into the open room, flipping tables. Craft time at the community center was not quite over. But, he'd be the only one to finish this final project. To start, causing chaos was his primary goal. He reveled in the screams. The terror, truly, was music to his ears. And, then, they stopped as they always did. In the soft silence that followed his attack, he'd create his masterpiece. His arm could turn into a brush. His medium of choice was seeping from the broken bodies, coating the floor. The dirty, beige room was washed clean in such a beautiful red. Dark and rich and warm. Today, he wouldn't just paint. Today he'd construct something truly grand. It was the right sort of message to send to S.H.I.E.L.D. if they came looking. The phone, Skye's phone, buzzed again on his hip reminding him that they _would_ come looking. And soon.

With his own limbs as knives, he sliced arms from the dead. Twenty in all. He used brute force to break each hand, and ease each pointer finger out. Twenty pointing fingers circled the beautiful, red pool. And, there, on a small island, just beyond the vibrant blood, he left Skye's ringing phone, a message flashing on the screen.

On the floor, with a paint brush, he wrote 'Tick Tock' in red block letters. 

It was a push. He had no doubt, when S.H.I.E.L.D. got this message, they'd respond with a shove.

...so long as Skye was there to see them respond with all that nasty force? To see one last betrayal from those she was so far above in quality? She'd finally understand what Evolutus stood for. She'd see the future they could have. Together.

He had one more stop to make. One more meeting with those who understood what the future could be without the clutter of humanity mucking everything up. His Evolutus brethren would be needed to make this plot run smoothly to its inevitable conclusion. 

And, then, he could go back to his Skye. Striding out the door and hurrying to the train, he smiled broadly at the people passing by but, again, he was just another person, invisible to the herd. It was too bad those walking past couldn't share in his joy. It had, after all, been such a rewarding day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ExcellentlyEllen had a big hand in helping craft just how to deliver the next set of chapters. Her betaing rules. (Many thanks are owed!)
> 
> Thank you, too, dear reader for reading, commenting, liking and following. It means so much.


	11. Bridges: Broken, Burnt, or Otherwise

Jemma Simmons did not look happy to see him sitting in the lab awaiting her care. Ward understood her feelings completely. If choice was part of the equation, he wouldn't opt for the doctor who had last told him that she'd kill him the next time she saw him. Such a disclosure really didn't enhance his confidence in the medical care he was about to get. Given that his other option was Fitz, the doctor who had _actually_ tried to kill him the last time they'd been near each other, he supposed Simmons was still the best bet. Broken noses made everything more difficult and the self-fix wasn't advisable...though watching how much force Simmons used to pull on her latex gloves had Ward start to reconsider fixing the bridge of his nose himself.

She handed him a wad of tissue. “Blow.” 

Ward complied as Simmons disappeared behind him. “I'm going to set the bone now. Don't jerk back.” Her hands came to rest just over his eyes blocking Ward's vision. He could only smell blood and latex. She prodded twice and then pushed hard with both hands. He could feel the bone shift, the crackling let him know it had resettled, and he breathed a real, full breath for the first time in over two hours. 

Simmons came around to the front and eyed her work. “It needs to be done one more time,” she said abruptly. Ward could swear the edge of her lip was curling up. To give himself a reprieve from the pain, he took the tissues out of his lap and blew out more blood and mucus. Bracing himself for the next set, Ward nearly winced when her cool hands pressed softly into his nose. This time Simmons stayed in front of him. She ran her thumbs down the edges of his nose. Once... Twice... Then the awful crunching sound of bones grinding let him know her readjustment hit the mark.

“Thank you,” Ward offered though it came out sounding like 'thag you'. His nose was still sore and swollen even though it no longer jutted out at an odd angle. Tenderly, he ran his thumb down the edge of his nose. 

Simmons didn't respond right away. She stripped her gloves off and tossed them in the bin. She spent a full minute fiddling with equipment on the counter. Ward waited for her to speak because it was clear she was working up to it. When she did, it wasn't the conversation he expected to have. 

Still not looking his way, Simmons asked, “How is Skye?”

Ward wasn't sure where to start with his answer. He assumed that Coulson and May had given Simmons some update as she didn't come into the lab and immediately start shooting at him but did she know about Evolutus? That Skye had been taken by one of their number? He watched as she stacked all her files up neatly, set them down, and then re-stacked them in the opposite direction. He decided to start with something less fraught than Skye's current predicament. Ward cleared his throat before offering up the illuminating: “She's, uh, she's good.”

He really did mean to say something better than that but at least his subpar response got him some eye contact from Simmons. Even if it was only a glare. “I mean, before now... she's been working really hard to get some control of her powers. She can direct the energy now. Send out just a little. Or a lot. She's still not fully able to control unintentional minor quakes when she's feeling a lot of emotions but she getting better.”

Talk of Skye's power, the mystery of them piqued Simmons' interest: “What does she use to de-escalate? Is there a chemical trigger? Or psychosociological one?”

“Uh, touch helps? From certain people.” Simmons nodded at that. “And when all else fails, it's tiny hedgehogs.”

“Yes. Tiny hedgehogs...wait, what?”

“I think it is her way to think of things that aren't upsetting. Things that won't emotionally trigger her powers?” Ward shrugged. “They're cute.”

Simmons' shy smile slipped onto her face for a moment before fading away. The eye contact, too, faded back to the counter as she found a whole new way to re-stack her files. “And you and Skye? You're not mad at her? For San Juan? Coulson said you've spent some time with her. You didn't...she, uh...she's okay with...?”

“I'm not mad at Skye. It is too hard to stay mad at Skye.” Simmons nodded at this too. “Besides, she's a lot faster now. She can take me in a fight if she really wants to try. We've...patched things up.” Ward earned another shallow smile from Simmons.

“That's good. I mean, I'm glad she's been doing so well. I'd only ever hoped the best for her.” Her voice quavered and broke.

Ward didn't know what to do. Crying women wasn't something he had any skill with and a crying Jemma Simmons who swung between wanting to kill him on sight and weeping at the thought that Skye was in trouble was so far beyond his skill sets. The best he could hope for was distraction. “She missed you. All of you. S.H.I.E.L.D. was ...is... like family to her.”

That was true. Mostly. Skye did miss her friends at S.H.I.E.L.D. though she never really talked about it with him. Ward got the impression that her powers made her feel too different, alien. He knew, too, that the way S.H.I.E.L.D. had handled her as a gifted had made her feel less than human instead of more. Still, family meant everything to Skye and their S.H.I.E.L.D. team was her family.

Simmons snuffled and turned her watery, hazel eyes towards Ward. “Why'd she leave then? Why'd she run away from us?”

Ward knew this much too. He'd had this conversation with Skye on one of their many phone calls. “She didn't want to hurt you. She didn't trust herself, her power. The only way she could think to control it was to remove herself from the equation.” There was a pause that seemed longer than it likely was because the silence of it was filled with Simmons' sniffling. “Can I ask why S.H.I.E.L.D. took so long to find Skye? Originally, I mean. Before New Jersey.”

Simmons gave Ward a hard look, an assessing look. She must have decided in his favor because she sat on the stool opposite the exam table. Looking at her hands, she started. “We've been a tangled mess for awhile now. The obelisk, Whitehall, and Hydra...tracking them – you – down had been our primary focus for so much of our rebirth and, then, San Juan.” She shrugged and looked up at him for a moment. Her calm facade was marred by the worry and sadness that still haunted her memories of these events. 

“We lost three agents. Good friends. Skye blamed herself for those losses ...after, for awhile at least, she couldn't touch or be touched. She was like one of those Diviner objects. Utterly deadly to those of us that aren't gifted.” Simmons grabbed another tissue and wiped furiously at the tear-streaks running down her face. “It caused a lot of tension here. Some of the new agents were reluctant to be around her. I think we just needed a break from that pressure.” Ward watched the tissue shred, watched Simmons crush it and discard it while she continued with a burst of speed: “When she first went AWOL, we all figured she'd be back sooner rather than later and, when she didn't come back, we'd already lost the trail. She'd disappeared.”

Ward grimaced at that account of it. He better understood Skye's need to remove herself from S.H.I.E.L.D. than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s desire for distance from Skye. Simmons' account only gave further credence to Skye's never articulated (but oh-so-obvious) feelings of betrayal. And, then, to arrive back here to see Attilanians being tortured by S.H.I.E.L.D.? To have her image of Coulson tarnished so? Ward imagined she was going through the same emotional free fall he'd felt when Garrett went from affable father figure to manic mad man. Coulson wasn't insane though. He wasn't as infallible as Skye had always believed but he also wasn't the monster she was likely building up in her mind either. 

Simmons finally locked her hands in front of her so she'd stop tearing at tissues or re-shuffling her files. “Fitz and I just managed to find a fairly accurate way to track Skye's earthquakes but we'd been assuming she didn't control them. If she does –control them, I mean—we can't track her unless she allows it, unless she uses her power.”

“And she won't. Not while she's in New York City. Too great a risk for collateral damage. Unless, of course, she feels extremely threatened and is left with no other choices.” Ward finished for her. The first thing he'd done once May and Coulson had let him get off the floor in the Vault was call her phone. She wasn't answering though and Ward suspected that Zane had managed to get rid of her phone somehow. Ward and Kara Lynn had contingency plans for if they were separated, if they couldn't get to a meeting point. But they'd never prepped that with Skye or Zane on this mission. Ten minutes, in and out. There was no reason for them to split up, there was no reason to assume Skye would get cut off from them all.

“We need to get in touch with the rest of your team. Maybe she went back to them?” 

Ward was extremely reluctant to drag Kara Lynn and Mike Peterson back to S.H.I.E.L.D. since neither one of them had great experiences with the agency. It felt like a violation of their trust to even consider giving away their whereabouts to S.H.I.E.L.D. Especially, if Kara Lynn was recovering from a bullet wound. In the very least, he could buy her and Mike some time to clear out if they didn't want to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. “I don't think Zane would let her go back. If his whole design was to separate her from us, I'm sure he will find a way to keep her separate from them. How were you tracking Evolutus before now? Coulson said they'd matched Skye stop for stop.”

“We weren't tracking them until recently. Our trace for them is entirely reactionary. We know where they are based on the body count they leave behind. It's not a good way to project future targets or to prevent them.”

The soft, electric purr of the lab door opening pulled their attention. Fitz was standing just inside the doorway, hands clenched tightly into fists at his side.

“Jemma.” Fitz said, though his eyes drilled into Ward. “Coulson wants us to run the tracking program. See if we can pull up where Skye went after leaving here.”

Simmons turned to her partner. She eyed him from head to toe. It was a clinical assessment. Ward had received the same look from her when he'd gone in for a checkup in the past. Though, truth be told, Simmons assessment of Fitz was a lot warmer and more familiar than it had ever been for him. “Fitz. I don't think that's going to be of any help. Ward was just telling me that...”

“Ward was telling you? Really, Jemma? Ward? And you trust he's not lying?”

“He said Skye's gotten better with control. It makes sense, Fitz. That's what she wanted. What she'd been working so hard to achieve.”

Fitz started pacing back and forth. “ _If_ that's the case,” he narrowed his eyes at Ward for a moment, “then we've got nothing. Our information on Evolutus is...”

“Reactionary.” Ward and Simmons said in unison, sharing a look. 

It startled Fitz from his pacing at least. He stuttered a little in order to start up again. “Yes. Right. Phones?”

“Skye's not answering. I tried. I don't even know if Zane has one?” Ward muttered. 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “You tried _calling_ but it's a _phone_.” He said this as if you don't just call a phone and everyone, except Ward, knew it. Ward was about to ask for an explanation when Fitz impatiently asked, “Did you check it against the towers? Triangulate with her GPS? Is the WiFi on? We might be able to find where it is currently...”

Ward had no answer to those questions so he shrugged and dug out his own phone. Tentatively, he handed it over to Fitz. He half expected the crazed, little scientist to drop it on the table and smash it open. But Fitz didn't do that. Instead, he flipped through some screens, pulled up a call log and then went over to one of the terminals and typed furiously for a moment. Simmons was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet leaning over his shoulder to watch.

She clapped once when their search reached its terminus. “We've got it! Let's tell May and Coulson.” As a unit, the two scientists rushed to the door. It purred open and they dashed down the hall and were gone. 

Slowly, Ward got to his feet unsure if he should follow. He hadn't been locked up in the Vault but you could hardly call his reception at S.H.I.E.L.D. warm. He was about to sit back down on the table and wait for Simmons to return. Or Coulson. When the electric door slid open again and Fitz poked his head into the room. “You coming? We don't have all day!”

This time, Ward made haste to follow. A lightness he hadn't felt in months filled him up. This wasn't forgiveness. He wasn't sure he'd ever get that. But this...this was a step forward.

May and Coulson were waiting with Simmons near the holotable. They looked up as Fitz and Ward came in. Ward had such an awful sense of deja vu. The only one missing was... 

“...Skye.” Simmons was mid-explanation. She didn't back track though but she did turn enough to include the new arrivals in the discussion. “Or, really, Skye's phone is pinging us from 62nd. It's stationary – hasn't moved at all so we won't likely see anything when we get there aside from a lost phone.”

“Or a dead body.” May looked grim and held up her own phone. A series of alerts were rolling down the screen. Police alerts. There was a murder – or several—just now being reported at a community center off 62nd.

“I'll send an extraction team.” Coulson said. “May?” She nodded. His eyes shifted to Ward. “I can't send you in for this.”

Ward bristled at the tone. “You don't have a choice.”

“Really?” Coulson said arching both his eyebrows nearly up to his hairline. A feat, considering how far it had receded.

“Skye thinks you're out to kill all inhumans. Inhumans like her. And you want to send in an extraction led by May? If she is there, she'll fight you. And you know, as well as I do, that we can't afford a fight with Skye.”

Coulson and May had their weird wordless exchange but Ward was unconcerned. They had no other choice. He'd be going on this mission. Finally, May's brief nod confirmed it. 

They were practically in the SUV before Ward realized he had no weapons. He'd been disarmed ages ago. It wasn't as if he needed a gun. His hand-to-hand combat was fine-tuned enough but, if he came within 500 feet of Zane, he wanted to be able to take the shot. He stopped abruptly and Simmons, who must've been following close behind him, ran smack into his back. He reached out to steady her as she tottered away from him.

“Sorry!” She apologized unnecessarily, rubbing at her own nose. “I just...” She shoved an icer at him. “Fitz said you should have this. Uh...Good luck.”

Again, Ward felt that bizarre lightness. “Thanks,” he said gruffly before sliding into the passenger seat. May, of course, was behind the wheel. 

There was no lightness or camaraderie during the hellish stop and go drive through the late afternoon traffic. It wasn't as if he and May had ever had lengthy conversations in the past but now? The silence sizzled with ill-intent. He, wisely, opted to ignore it. But, when they pulled up to the drab community center, he barely waited for the SUV to stop before he hopped out of the car and made his way toward the door. Police were crawling all over the place. Red and blue lights flashed. Pedestrians gathered outside to gawk and whisper. May's badge got them through the tangled mess of the municipal law enforcement but however bad the snarl of chaos outside was, it was a much cleaner mess than the blood bath within. 

Ward hadn't really been following the Evolutus story. Sure, he'd seen what Zane had done in the Vault. He'd heard about dead campers or boy scouts or what not. But this? A standing pool of blood? A circle of twenty arms neatly pointing towards its center? The individual that was responsible for this was beyond redemption. Beyond sanity. Ward never liked Zane, for sure, but he'd also never pegged him for this level of twisted. 

In the center, of those artfully arranged arms, there was a phone. Or, more specifically, Skye's phone. Careful to stay out of the pool of blood, Ward reached down and snagged it. The police on scene looked like they were ready to jump in, to yell at him for disturbing evidence, but May helpfully derailed their attempts.

It gave Ward time to look at the cracked screen of the phone. It was difficult to read beneath the spiderwebbing crack marring the front of the phone but he could just make out an unsent text message. It read: NYSE. Tomorrow. 9AM.

Stepping back to where May was examining the pile of armless victims, Ward held out the phone. She read it and pointed to the floor where he could just make out the smeared letters of the second message: Tick Tock.

“I need my team. Mike. Kara Lynn.” Ward said. His tone as cold as he felt. His fear for Skye fraying dangerously into an anger towards her captor.

“We will talk to Coulson about that when we get back to S.H.I.E.L.D.” May said. Ward was about to object, to fight her on it but she added, softly, “I think he'll agree that we could use as much help as we can find for this operation.” 

Together, they got back into the SUV. The drive back to S.H.I.E.L.D. was as silent as the drive out had been but this time it wasn't May's ill-intent that ate into Ward's peace. Two words repeated in an endless loop in his mind. 

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrious ExcellentlyEllen was essential in the creation of this chapter. Her beta skills should be heralded from the hilltops. Really. If I could sing...
> 
> Uh. You, too, awesome reader-types! Thank you for your comments, suggestions, shouts of horror and what not. The response to the last chapter was overwhelming...in a good way. All feedback has been helpful to the continuation of this story. :)


	12. Minus One

It should have been the easiest eight minute guard duty she'd ever pulled. Who took the stairs when there was a perfectly fine elevator just down the hall? But easy was mindless and mindlessness was difficult to endure. Kara Lynn lasted two minutes at attention before her mind slipped away from the empty stairwell.

Standing idly in front of said stairs, Kara Lynn strained to hear something, anything, beyond the oppressive sound of silence. Unfortunately, there were no gun shots, no grunts or groans from a spirited group melee, no pounding feet, or yelling voices. There was nothing to focus on, nothing to keep her occupied, and, so, the thoughts she'd been so successful at avoiding stomped into her mind and didn't let up. 

Kara Lynn tried not to bother with thoughts of the future. Wiped free of a past and forced to only accept Hydra as the end-all, be-all had given her little incentive to think beyond the here and now. There'd been nothing else. Even after Whitehall's death broke the mind lock, her role in life only shifted from being a Hydra gun to gunning down Hydra. But that was starting to change. Kara Lynn, Ward, and Mike had done a substantial job of clearing out nests of Hydra operatives. The organization was dwindling, on the run, and increasingly irrelevant. They were going to have to find real work sometime soon. Work that paid in more than ammunition and revenge. 

The 'they' of that, too, was in question. Ward was so obviously head over heels for Skye. If she asked him to jump off a cliff, he would. Granted, he was smart enough to make sure he had a parachute and he was petty enough to grumble endlessly on the way down but...he'd jump. So the question became what would Skye ask of him—ask of them—next? This fact-finding mission was turning out to be the proverbial cake walk that Mike had said it would be but where would it lead them? A secret floating city? Accessible from earth but not on earth? Kara Lynn didn't mind running from one side of the country to the other. Hell, she wouldn't mind running from one side of the world to the other...but space travel? She wasn't so sure about that. 

She caught a shadow of movement from the corner of her eye and it drew her attention back to the door of the stairwell. She pulled her gun and crept forward, only to hear the crack of a fired weapon and feel the sharp burn of pain in her left shoulder. Her distraction had been too complete. She saw Melinda May, gun in her left hand, only a second before May's right hook caught her in the chin and the pain of it all was eaten up by an eager darkness. The darkness consumed thoughts of the future and awareness of the present and everything else.

Unfortunately, when she came to, the pain was back with a vengeance. Her unconsciousness did not seem to do anything to dull it. Her vision was slightly blurred, a side effect, she hoped, from the pounding headache and not a sign of something worse. Even with the smudging of her vision, she could tell she was no longer in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ but the dated motel room they'd stayed in the night before. Blinking, she started to sit up only to have her shoulder complain so sharply she faded back into oblivion. 

When she woke a second time, Oscar was looking worriedly down at her, snuffling. He looked so forlorn, she tried to reach out and reassure him. That was not a terribly good idea. Her arm felt like it was on fire when she moved it. The puppy whined and then Mike came into her line of sight. 

“You're still alive!” Mike said with such relief the words came out in a tumble, hurried mess.

Kara Lynn turned to see him standing just to the side of the bed. “Of course, I'm still alive. You don't die from shoulder wounds,” she snapped. Her tone was sharper for her pain than from any actual source of anger. 

Mike seemed to understand that much. “You lost a lot of blood... I wasn't too sure. This nursing stuff? Not really my thing.”

Kara Lynn thought maybe she should sit up and then remembered how well that had gone the last time and remained lying prone. “Did you remove the bullet?”

Mike nodded. “I didn't know how to stitch it up though. So I, uh, I cauterized the wound.”

Kara Lynn was distinctly glad she had been passed out for that experience. “How long have I been out? Where's Ward? Skye?” 

“You've been out maybe six hours.” He ran a hand across his face as if trying to pull out a better answer. Finding none, he continued grimly, “And I have no clue where Ward, Ry, or Skye are. To the four winds – the whole lot of us. When I heard the shot, I went to get you. You were out cold and bleeding all over so I just...I got you out of there. I figured the three of them could cover things in the control room. They had to have heard the shot; they had full warning things were heading south. But, I haven't heard or seen any of them since.” Mike sat down in a chair next to the bed. It made him impossible to see from Kara Lynn's prone position so she shifted as delicately as she could. “We should have set up a better contingency plans. Skye's not answering her damn phone which is weird. I figured, eventually, we'd all make our way back here. I mean, at least to get the dog.” Said puppy shook his tail weakly as if he knew he was being acknowledged. Oscar had that weird doggy sense that all was not well and he kept looking towards the door as if he expected Ward to come in at any moment.

Kara Lynn risked the pain to move her arm across Oscar's back. She couldn't do much else to reassure the dog right now anyway.

“Who got you? It was just one agent right?”

Kara Lynn nodded. “I just saw the one but firing a gun in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility will bring the rest running. Unfortunately, for Ward, it was my double. Those two have a history full of fun. I doubt he'd get the upper hand in a fight against May.”

“Do you think she'd go for a kill shot?” 

Kara Lynn grimaced. “I doubt it. She's very by the book and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s book doesn't tend to run with kill shots. She might've iced him.” Kara Lynn winced. “...Though god knows she didn't use an icer on me. And, damn it. Who takes the stairs anyway?! I was supposed to have the easy guard job.”

Mike nodded solemnly. “They wouldn't shoot Skye on sight. They'd want to talk to her. And Ry? He's the wild card in all this since he can practically disappear on them. I say we give them another hour. If we don't hear from them by then, we'll have to consider taking on S.H.I.E.L.D. again.”

“If we stay here and S.H.I.E.L.D. does have them in custody, it won't be long before they'll come collect us too. We need to move to another room in the least.”

Mike tapped the side of his face slowly. “If S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to track us, they still have the ability to access my hardware. We can't hide or, rather, I can't hide. You though? I can get you free and clear of this. If you want.”

Very, very slowly Kara Lynn sat up. She winced and replied, “What for? I'm no good winged and on my own. If we're going to get shafted by this adventure, the least we can do is go down together.”

Mike looked distinctly relieved by her answer and his obvious expression of it made Kara Lynn feel better. Granted, she still felt like shit and 'feeling better' after taking a shoulder shot wasn't really something to brag about. She just found it nice that her teammates, despite their history as uncooperative solo operatives, seemed to feel the same need to stick together as she did. 

Oscar perked up and started to prance back and forth until he tumbled off the bed. Mike was immediately on his feet, cybernetic arm pointed out. Kara Lynn held up her hand to stall his defense. “He's happy with whoever is at the door. It might be a good thing?” The rising inflection on the final word showed her uncertainty. Oscar barked again and waggled merrily.

Mike did not relax his stance; he was primed to fire. In an aside to Kara Lynn, he murmured, “At least we know it isn't Ry. Oscar would never be so happy to smell him coming this way.”

The truth of that statement made Kara Lynn all the more nervous. She wished she was in better condition. She wished she had a gun in hand. The door rattled, then opened, the keening sound of Mike's laser amping up to fire filled the room right before Ward strode into the it.

Mike cursed and quickly pulled back though his wrist laser fired anyway leaving a smoking hole in the comforter on the second bed. “Christ! Ward! You could've let us know you were coming. I nearly shot you.”

Ward looked terrible. He had several gashes along his face and across arms, a black eye, and a very bruised and swollen nose. Kara Lynn would guess it had been broken and he'd done something to straighten it again. The grim set of his mouth told her that whatever brought him storming into the room was not good news. She asked the hard question. “Where's Skye? Ry? They get out?”

“They got out. Together.” He said that with such vehemence that it was clear he didn't think the answer was the best news they've had all day. Kara Lynn wondered if Ward and Skye had another fight. She hadn't seen him this bent in months.

Mike gave Ward a sideways glance and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Good. So, we've all made it out and Kara Lynn will be on the mend soon. This is all good news, right? Why do you look like your dog just died?” Mike looked down at said dog and quickly added, “Sorry Oscar. Figure of speech.” Oscar just perked his ears up and looked at Mike.

When Ward was upset and not trying to mask it, he tended to lock his jaw and speak through his teeth. It made all his movements more rigid and abrupt. Oscar whined until Ward finally leaned down and absently pet him. Finally, he replied, “They got out of S.H.I.E.L.D., yes. But, it's not good. Everything is not good. I need to take you back to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.” Stalling both Mike and Kara Lynn's obvious attempts to protest by raising his hand, Ward dead-panned, “Zane is Evolutus. And Skye's in a whole lot of trouble...”

It was that moment that Fitz poked his head into the room, saw Oscar, and added nothing relevant to the conversation beyond “You've got a dog?!” Kara Lynn nearly sprang off the bed at the intrusion of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. It was a bad move for her as the movement caused the pain to explode up her arm again. Although he was oblivious to it, Fitz was lucky his arrival had been such a surprise to Kara Lynn. Mike didn't get a chance to shoot him since, last second, he had to adjust and catch Kara Lynn as she nearly crumpled to the floor. Fitz was on his knees waving Oscar toward him while speaking nonsensical jibberish to the dog and Oscar was loving every second of it. He didn't just wag his tail. He was in full body wag for Fitz.

“Really?” Ward asked, looking resigned. “You couldn't wait one more minute?”

Fitz interrupted his run of doggy baby talk to throw Ward a dark look. “Hey. You're the one that wanted me here. I'm here. Get on with it.”

Mike carefully settled Kara Lynn on the bed again and stared down Ward. Ward wasn't one to give up a staring contest but Mike's iron endurance won out and Ward backed down first. He dropped his gaze to Oscar and Fitz. “I brought Fitz because I figured you'd need some reassurance. I haven't been on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s good side for a long while and one of the agents with the most cause to dislike me is standing by my side right now because in this case, the enemy of our enemy is our friend.”

Kara Lynn was recovering from her shock and helpfully added, “Well, it sounds like the enemy is our friend too. And, technically, he's not standing by your side but getting all the love from your dog.”

“Right. Well, if we'd just listened to Oscar in the first place maybe none of this would've happened. Oscar called it on Zane,” Ward replied.

“Oscar called it? Not you? I distinctly remember you not being his biggest fan.”

Ward looked at her full on then. It was the first real eye contact he'd given her since coming into the room and it said a lot. The worry lines on his face were like chasms. His eyes were blood shot. And, he looked like he was on the verge of breaking down entirely. Kara Lynn could honestly say she'd never seen him so bad and she'd picked up the pieces when Skye had left him in New Jersey. “I didn't like the man. At all. But, this... we're dealing with new levels of wrong here. He has Skye and... I need your help getting her back.”

Mike nodded slowly. “And S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Fitz looked up from Oscar. “S.H.I.E.L.D. will assist you in reclaiming our agent.”

Both Kara Lynn and Mike looked at Ward when that line was delivered, saw that he was resigned to this too, and knew they were missing a whole chunk of the picture. Slowly getting to her feet again, Kara Lynn gave Fitz a slow nod. “You'll fill us in on the way back to HQ?”

“And then some.” Fitz said before turning to Ward. “We're taking the dog too, right?”

***  
It wasn't until some hours later when everyone was sitting around a table in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ after having heard the day's events told, separately, by Coulson and Ward, that Kara Lynn came to the realization that they might just have one up on Zane. If they played it right. She looked around the table at the weird amalgam of enemies and friends. Deep down, Kara Lynn was aware that all of them could have been on the same team; could have been friendly if not friends. But fate had dealt them all stacked hands. And, if you shoot enough bullets at each other, it isn't exactly easy to put down the gun at the end of it. It was a miracle they were sitting down now though she was fairly certain guns were still in hand and ready on both sides of the table. 

To her right, Ward sat rigid in his chair. He kept flipping through pictures of Evolutus crime scenes and the varying degrees of mutilated corpses really couldn't be helping his state of mind. Fitz and Simmons came next. She'd never had much experience with either of them though she felt she knew them from the stories both Skye and Ward told. Their conversation was hard to follow, especially when it collided and they finished each other's sentences and ideas without ever cluing in the rest of the world. Coulson sat directly opposite her and he just looked worn. He and Ward were just two different takes on how to show your anxiety badly. Ward was wound tighter and tighter and Coulson just flattened out, thinned, and paled. Kara Lynn let her eyes skip right over Melinda May; she had already had enough of a hang up about being a second, a doppelganger before she'd been shot. Now? She didn't have the capacity to deal with that woman right at this time. Finally, she looked to Mike who sat to her left. He, too, looked tired. Though he held his worry a lot better than some of the others at the table.

Kara Lynn directed her conversation towards him because it was just easier that way. “We've been going on in circles about this operations. And we definitively know one thing: Absolutely Nothing. Skye's an unknown element.” Hastily, she waved Ward down from his pounce. “We don't know how she's going to take this. We don't know what she knows. And, damn it, Ward, we really do need to consider all our options.” The glare he sent her was so hot she felt its burn even as she didn't look his way. “We know Zane is involved but that gives us nothing considering his ability. Tomorrow he could be anything. Anyone. So, what? We show up at the New York Stock Exchange at 9 and just twiddle our thumbs?”

All eyes were on her though she wasn't saying anything all that more groundbreaking than the rest of them had been kicking around. “Here's the thing: Zane thinks we're out of the action. He left with Skye knowing I'd been shot, Mike had gone to help me. He left with her knowing full well that Ward was down and out and that you lot hate him to the ends of the earth, right?”

The shallow head bobs she got on that were almost comical at this point.

“So, some fucked up shit is going to go down in the NYSE tomorrow. Probably be set before 9. Probably will happen right when you show up. They're not asking to see you just for kicks. They're going to make a show of it and it's going to big. Explosive.”

Coulson broke in. “You think they'll have a bomb?”

“I think they're going to make a scene. And if you wanted to bring the whole of America to its knees, what would you do? Take out the stock exchange, the economy will collapse and fold over night. It won't matter if your body count isn't that high the day of the attack. The dollar isn't running on the gold standard any more. The only thing that makes it worth anything is people's opinion of its value. Terrorist attacks on American soil? That's bad business. After that? When everything starts to crumble? Evolutus can run around causing as much chaos as they please. Hell, half the working class in America will jump into the fray if things get desperate enough. We will destroy ourselves.”

May quietly dissented, “America has recovered from terrorist attacks in the past. What'll make this one different?”

Kara Lynn was just lining up her defense of her position when she was astonished to find Simmons jump in and take up the banner instead. “No. She's right. The businesses that won't get obliterated by the destruction of the NYSE won't be able to hold up the dollar. The US will fall into a steep depression, likely drag everyone else down with them. And the US has a tendency to drag itself out of economic free fall by going to war.”

Fitz chimed in. “And they won't have an outside group to fight this time. The inhumans? What are they even? Not all of them look that different from the guy next door. Sure, they'll kill off the most unusual first but then?”

It was, apparently, time for the Fitz-Simmons team to sentence swap. Kara Lynn was glad they were sitting next to each other so she didn't have to keep bouncing her head back and forth to keep eye contact. “...They've been living amongst us for years. The Skyes and Zanes?”

“It'll be civil war...”

“Just not that civil!”

“Families tearing at themselves.” 

“Neighbors taking out neighbors. Vigilanteism will reign and...”

“Evolutus will just have to sit back and watch us tear ourselves to pieces.” They practically said the last bit together though Simmons spoke faster than Fitz which made the sentence more a garble of sound than a functional statement but the point was made. Grudgingly, Kara Lynn decided that she really couldn't have made the point better herself. She offered the scientists a slim smile and a nod.

“What's the point, Kara Lynn?” Ward said.

“The point is they aren't planning for _us_.” She understood his confusion. Their aside into future apocalypse territory did jump them pretty far afield from her original statement. “They think Mike and I are out of contact and you're locked up in the Vault. We're the wild cards in this.” Shifting her gaze to Coulson, she continued. “You guys got a job to do tomorrow. We've all got to go in and make sure whatever fuckery they've got planned at NYSE doesn't happen. Right? They left _you_ a message and they're expecting _you_ to show up. That's _your_ op. You walk right into that trap knowing full well it is set for you. Hold your ground. If you can get Zane, get him. Or Skye. But I don't think they're going to be there.” She gestured to Ward and Mike. “Us? We can just walk right in while you're distracting them with your whole scary men in dark suits thing.”

May's smooth tone cut in. “So you go in while we distract the distraction?”

“If we can figure out what's going down first, we can take it out. I have a feeling that we will find Zane and Skye hanging out behind the scenes too.”

“I want to be there when you find Zane.” Ward said flatly. “I'm not sitting this out.”

Coulson hummed a little. He held her eye contact for a long time and Kara Lynn wished she knew more about Coulson, about how his mind worked. She wasn't as good at reading him as she was Mike and Ward. Finally, he spoke: “You're asking us to trust you a lot.” He held up his hand to stay Ward's protest. “A lot. And we have had issues with it in the past. But this is, ultimately, about one of our own.” His eyes shifted to Ward. “I don't trust you, Ward, but I trust that you won't let Skye get hurt. If this whole thing goes wrong? That won't be good for anyone. Skye included.” Sliding his gaze back to Kara Lynn, he continued. “We know nothing going in and we can't be running a double blind operation. Can we have you on surveillance? In the van, speaking with both teams?” 

She nodded.

“Great.” Coulson looked at Mike then Ward. “You two are going to need to gear up and be ready to handle as many scenarios that we can come up with between now and 9AM. Fitz-Simmons will help you get the equipment you need.” 

With that, he stood. “Let's hope you're right about this. About Skye...about everything. And let's hope we're not too late to stop it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ExcellentlyEllen has kept me on the straight and narrow again. Thanks to her beta skills this chapter is functional. :)
> 
> Thanks, too, to the readers who have commented and liked and critiqued the story as it has unfolded. Your perspective helps me shape where the story goes. (You've got the power!)


	13. Tomorrow, tomorrow

Skye wouldn't consider herself to be socially awkward. She was quick to engage with others, easy-going, and fun-loving. She had experience talking to people who'd endured trauma, had great empathy, and was generally a _nice_ person. But there was just something about Videmus that rubbed her the wrong way. Perhaps it was his continued insistence that he wanted to see with her. She understood that the only way he could see was by letting others play host to his eyes, well, now just eye. And, honestly, out of sheer pity, she might have let him use her if it only meant that she was giving him sight. But it was more than that, it was giving him the ability to read her thoughts, communicate wordlessly. 

His pitch to sell her on the benign nature of his power was doing quite the opposite. “Words are meaningless when you can have more than that. You can have experience and absolute truth. I can show you so much more than you see now.”

“I'm good. Really.” Skye glanced at a clock on the wall. It had been only fifteen seconds since she'd last looked its way. She needed to get up, to move, to do something. Standing abruptly in the middle of whatever else Videmus was saying, Skye strode out of the room. She slowed her pace as soon as she got past the first cluster of abandoned apartments and knew that no one had sought to follow her.

There was a fine layer of dust that muted all the colors in the apartment complex. The dust was a testament to the fact that no one had set foot in the building for some time. It had not been long enough for the rot and decay to really set in and make things completely foul but a sour neglect had settled comfortably in all the corners.

She wandered down the hall being careful to keep her steps soft. Occasionally, a door would be open and she'd turn in for a moment. Each time she did, she'd find the same thing. The apartments, for the most part, seemed to have been left in all manner of haste. This wasn't a building that had been vacant because no one opted to live there; it was one that the occupants had fled leaving behind their dirty dishes, their piles of laundry, their toothbrushes. Skye wondered what had happen to displace so many so quickly. A gas leak? A bug problem? Sickness? The more she thought about it, the more unnerved it made her. None of those possibilities seemed to fit the evidence of a rushed but constant vacancy. And, why, if the residents had any warning of their removal from home, did it seem like no one had the forethought to take any of their belongings? Clothing? Their family portraits? A favorite teddy bear? 

A grayish light flickered in from cracks at the tops of the boarded up windows. It felt wrong creeping through other people's places, looking at their abandoned things but still Skye kept at it. Partly to give herself something to do and partly because she really wanted to find a phone. Unfortunately the one thing that was universally lacking from all the apartments was technology of any sort. Skye supposed that would make some sort of sense. Computers and phones would be the first thing stolen and sold. But, no landlines? Or, misplaced cell phones? No laptops, iPads, or e-readers tucked away from a thief's quick dash in and out? It was as if someone had made sure that once you were in the building, there was no link out. Skye felt bereft, imprisoned again – cut off and contained between four walls, a ceiling, and a floor. She knew it was unfair to blame the shell-shocked Attilanians in the room downstairs as they really had no hand in where they currently were holed up but she couldn't help but feel an irrational irritation with them. They'd been the reason she had such memories of imprisonment after all. 

Skye found a small, dirty window in a bathroom on the fourth floor that had not been covered over. It gave her a limited view of the next building over. Its dark red brick wall was quickly losing color as the sun sank lower on the horizon. Years ago, the nuns at the orphanage would have called this time the 'gloaming hour'. It was that time of day when colors fled away to hide from the inky darkness that seemed to creep up from the ground and ooze out of the corners. To Skye, this time had always felt a little ominous and today was no difference. This foreboding, like the dust, covered everything and leeched it of its color and purpose. Skye's thoughts were filled with it and her worry intensified as the light of day was overcome by the shadows of night.

Ry had been gone a long time. A _very_ long time. Ry was a fairly independent guy. Although they'd been traveling together for months, it wasn't as if they were joined at the hip. But, typically, he was good about checking in and he was very reliable. Worse, in the span of a few hours, she'd gone from having four friends and allies on the verge of completing a fairly simple mission to being alone, in a creepy, abandoned apartment complex on the edge of New York City. It was not a good scene and, with very little else to do, Skye spent her time dwelling on what she should have done. She should have checked in with Mike or KL before dashing down those stairs. She should have insisted they go back for Ward. She should have done this mission on her own and not consigned all her friends to this nightmarish fallout. After the 'should haves' came the wishes. She wished Ward, KL, and Mike were okay. She wished she could forget the terrible things she'd seen in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Vaults. She wished Ry was back – that he wasn't trapped or hurt somewhere. 

In the time he'd been gone, he could have been to the hotel and back five times over by now. 

Her worry was fraying at her practicality. She needed someone familiar to ground her again. Kara Lynn and her jaded sense of humor, Mike and his no nonsense approach, and Ward... She knew – god, she knew – that Ward was likely still at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters but every time she tried to think of ways to get him out, her mind skittered away from plots and plans and she'd find herself back in the control room watching S.H.I.E.L.D. prisoners being tortured. And, then she'd go back to wishing and 'should having'; it was a nasty cycle.

She heard the clunk, clunk of heavy footsteps coming down the hall and she held her breath. If it was one of the other Attilanians, she just didn't want to deal with them right now.

Then she heard her name called out and was delighted to find one wish, at least, had come true. Ry had made it back.

“I'm in here, Ry!” Skye called turning away from the window and making her way to the larger room. Her delight faded fast when she saw that he was alone. 

Ry grinned at her and Skye had a brief flicker of hope that their friends were in the hall or downstairs. “I've got good news and bad news.” Skye braced herself unnecessarily because Ry continued with: “I'll start with the good.” That smile again. Skye wished he'd just spit it out. “Some old friends of mine are in town and they said they could meet up with us tomorrow. They'll be able to help us...” 

It was such an unexpected non sequitur that it took a moment for Skye to catch it. Dumbly, she voiced her first question and ignored his statement all together. “Where's KL? Mike?” Skye didn't say the last name because she didn't want to sound naïve but even unvoiced, the pause that followed was filled with the question of _his_ name too. 

“They weren't at the hotel. They had already cleared out. That was my bad news.” He ran his hand self-consciously through his trim hair but his smile didn't dim. That smile was so discordant to the conversation, Skye felt a tremor of unease slide down her back, a spattering of goose pimple skittered up her arms. A dark voice inside her, one that she thought she'd outrun, murmured _Tread carefully...you've been here before_. She ignored it, of course, but still a heavy suspicion welled up inside her.

Skye let a smile as fake as it was bright pull her own lips up. “Well, this is solved easily. All I need is a phone. Lend me yours.” She held out her hand but did not get the reassuring feel of hard plastic in return. Instead, Ry's large, warm hand slid over hers and he pulled her towards him, walking her toward the door. Ry had never been so casual with touch before and the feeling of wrongness grew. When he didn't drop her hand quick enough, she stopped letting him lead her forward. Pulling herself back and breaking his hold, Skye forced Ry to stop and turn towards her.

“Come on Skye...Let's go back to the others.”

“Where's your phone?”

He shrugged. “I must've left mine at the hotel this morning. We're down both our phones it seems.” He grinned at her again and, again, his affable goodwill only served to grate against her nerves. It wasn't like Skye had ever seen Ry as anything but jocular and easy-going. Unlike his physical appearance, his mood was constant and steady and, at times, annoyingly upbeat. When Skye had first run into him outside of Washington D.C., as she fled friend and foe alike, that steadiness had been such a blessing, the optimism had shaken her out of her own despair. She'd been running so hot and cold that having someone who didn't get battered by the ups and downs of her moods had been such a comfort. Ry had been that someone and, better still, he couldn't get shattered or crushed or broken when she lost control. 

Orion Zane. He had a name as fake as her and a blood line as convoluted. Skye didn't know if she'd have fallen into such an easy friendship with him had she not found him at just that precise moment in time. Aside from the whole Attilanian thing, they didn't have a whole lot in common. But being Attilanian like her? That had meant everything then. And, truly, so many of her friendships had been founded on more suspect grounds than the collision of her emotional train wreck with the insurmountable wall of his over-indulgent goodwill. But now? Misery loves company and Skye just needed someone to acknowledge that today had been a miserable day.

Skye looked at Zane and saw what she always saw: a giant of a man that dwarfed her by 2 feet, at least. His sweep of blonde hair never was out of place, his skin was smooth and unblemished. He was photoshop in real life –literally— he could shift and change and perfect himself at any time. His faultless beauty could put any model or actor to shame. Still, Skye realized with something of a shock that she would trade the clean cut man with an unending smile for Mike's slightly melted and surly grumbling or Kara Lynn's damaged facade and broken laughter, or Ward's scarred grimace. Sometimes constantly facing perfection was just too much to take. 

Linking her arms stubbornly across her chest, Skye's irritation sped up her speech and made her questions spit out like bullets from an automatic gun. “You truly don't care that we're down three of our friends right now? That Ward is likely still up at S.H.I.E.L.D.? That they're not going to be happy with him? That KL got shot? And we don't even know how bad it was?”

That, at least, wiped the smile from his face. “Skye...”

“Don't 'Skye' me! We need to get a hold of my friends. We need to know if they're okay, make plans to meet up if they can.”

“You're right. You're absolutely right. But, I just brought takeout back and it'll get cold if you let it...”

“I don't care if it gets cold! I'll just run down to the corner shop. I can call Kara Lynn. I'm sure the manager will let me make a call...”

Ry's large, warm hands framed her face and tilted her head up. “Calm yourself. The floor is shaking.”

This wasn't a diversion. Ry was telling the truth though his hands on her face weren't really helping her calm herself. A crack started making its way across the ceiling, white dust rained down on them. She hadn't lost control like that for awhile and she knew she couldn't risk a bigger break here, in the city. Breathing through her nose, Skye pulled in long, slow breaths of the stale. “Tomorrow, Skye. Everything will work out. We've got this. You and I. We've got this.”

The tremor passed and the dust settled and Skye stayed still, trapped between Ry's hands, breathing, and trying not to think about anything but control. 

Ry, still speaking in that tone you used with fussy children and spooked animals, said, “We can do this tomorrow. Calling KL and Mike. There's an APB out on you. I heard it going when I passed by some cops on the way back. I can snag you a disguise but let's give it a night so that you're not the hottest newsflash everyone's looking for. KL and Mike? If they're on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D., the last thing they need is their phone ringing.” 

“Yeah. And the first thing they need are their _friends_ ,” Skye muttered. 

“That's just the thing I was telling you! We've got more friends right here in NYC. Look, let's give KL and Mike a night to settle their cover. I could be wrong but I'm banking on S.H.I.E.L.D. still having their hands on Ward...”

“You said Mike would get him out.”

“Yes. Well, _if_ he didn't, I'm taking the next step. I'm pulling in some allies that can help us. Help you. _If_ S.H.I.E.L.D. is actually keeping Ward, and _if_ he's alive and they're not cutting out his tongue or burning up his eyes or...” Skye's face had taken a pallid green complexion and she pulled back from him. She couldn't believe he'd say that to her. Her revulsion must've showed because Ry actually looked contrite for once. “Right. Sorry... just whatever they seem to be doing these days is pretty far afield from how you recall them, right? We are going to need more of _us_ to get him out. I got online at the library. Shot out a couple of messages and I can meet up with a crew that can help us. Help you get Ward back. They said 9AM? At a cafe near Wall Street. You can call Mike and KL in the morning? First thing, right? I'm sure the owner of the cafe will have a phone that he would be happy to lend you. Tomorrow, everything will work out just right.” That smile again. This time the dark voice didn't have to say anything. Skye knew she'd been here before. Soft talk, unnatural smiles, and equations that never added up. If he had time to go to the library and check messages, time to hear an APB from the police, he'd have time to find a phone and call. And he hadn't.

Ry dropped his hands from her face but then he reached back and snagged her hand, pulling her towards the door again. He looked down at her, his perfect face blank. He was assessing her. There was a question in his eyes or, maybe, this time it was a command? 

Skye found herself with only a bad choice and a worse one. She could wait to see Ry's heretofore unmentioned friends, try to understand why he made no efforts to get in touch with their team, and hope that he was just horridly oblivious and not much, much worse. Or, she could strike out on her own with all of S.H.I.E.L.D. hunting her, wanting to stick her in the vault, and do much, much worse. 

She returned Ry's cold smile and didn't snatch her hand back like she had before. Quietly, she acquiesced. “You're right. I'm sorry. I just...it has been a long day. You said you had takeout?” 

His grin widened and he pulled her back out of the room, down the hall towards the other Attilanians. He was clearly pleased with his success but Ry wasn't the only one who could wrangle mysterious allies into his corner. 

Skye knew she could play this game too.

***

Skye played at being pleasant all evening. With Ry. With the Attilanians. She learned that, like herself, all of them had been human once. Unlike Skye, their change had been voluntary. Videmus had approached them with a diviner and they had opted to see what they could become. For some, that seemed to work out okay. Others, well, not everyone could pass as human and that had to suck.

The feathered boy was one such unfortunate though his power was not as worthless as at first it seemed. His feathers were, apparently, bulletproof and fire repellant. He was newly turned and had such hope that more powers would be revealed as he gained experience. More than anything, he hoped he'd get the power of flight. His current strengths hadn't helped against Ward's knock-out punch or the abuse of the military officers in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s prison but it sure beat just being merely _feathered_. Flying and bulletproof though? That might add up to something worthwhile. 

The man that looked more like an urban legend that had crawled out of the NYC sewers than a man probably had the worst transition. He was unsurprisingly bitter about it. His super powers were pretty standard as far as Attilanians went. His extra speed and strength were nice but the poor man also had overbite to make all a greedy orthodontist's dreams come true and, now, he could hardly go out in public. 

The other two inhumans had more subtle powers and physiques that could pass as human. The girl, a mousy seventeen year old by Skye's estimation, could always tell if someone was lying or not. She could see Ry only as he was, none of his appearance changes were visible to her. This seemed to make her dislike him and Skye, who'd only seen his true self once or twice, felt a twinge of pity that Ry appearance was so harshly judged even by one of their own. The others called the girl Margo. Margo did not speak at all. Her time in S.H.I.E.L.D. had traumatized her so that she refused any attempts to pull her into a conversation. Instead, she'd communicate through the other man in the group, a tall, ebony skinned gentleman who could, it seemed, read projected thoughts.

Skye might have found it weird that none of the Attilanians seemed inclined to talk much with Ry who had rescued them from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s prison had she not, just that afternoon, decided that he wasn't being entirely forthright. Ry would try to start that natural banter he was so good at maintaining but would only get monosyllables and shrugs in return. Videmus, occasionally, would weigh in with more but, eventually, the icy reception in the main room made Ry decide to call it a night. When he slipped off into the darkness of the complex to find a bed, Skye stayed with the mostly silent crowd of Attilanians weathering the awkwardness of their social silence. They all seemed to be trapped in their own thoughts and attempts to start conversations declined steeply once Ry had retired for the evening. 

Skye was glad that she was such a night owl. She'd like to think that waiting into the deep, dark hours of the night while everyone else around her tumbled into sleep was her first super power, one she'd had since she was little. One by one, the others drifted off to sleep. Too scared to find other rooms or, perhaps, unwilling to be isolated and alone again, they curled into each other or onto the floor until only Skye and Videmus remained awake.

She stared at him, unblinking. “It worked? Your eye?” She held her breath, waiting. He did not make her wait long.

A nod then: “It has found where he rests and has come back to me. You won't like the answers you seek.”

“I need to know. I've acted before without knowing the whole of it. I won't do that again.”

The older man sighed. “You are, still, everything we need, Skye. One day, I hope that you will realize your potential.”

Skye closed her eyes and reached out. She clasped the cool hands of the man in front of her. The world around her was dark but she could feel him, feel the connection she had to others. “One day...perhaps I will. But I need this now. I need this information for tomorrow.”

She kept her eyes closed because she did not want to see but she felt the soft slither of the ribbons of his eye as it made its way up her arm. She tightened her hold on Videmus's hand though the eye's immersion into her skin was painless.

“I've seen all I could see from him. I give that now to you. I hope, dear girl, that you will find a way through this trial. But know...even tomorrow...you are never without your friends.”

Skye's own eyes were screwed shut but a third rested quietly on her forehead, unblinking. She saw what tomorrow would hold and it took all she was not to bring the world crashing down around them a day early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra thanks to ExcellentlyEllen for lending her eyes to do my edits. And to you for reading, commenting, and sticking with this story. You're my inspiration. :)


	14. Keeping up Appearances

Appearances are everything and no one knew that better than Orion Zane. Born ugly, Zane had that lesson taught to him again and again with the myriad small cruelties that life dealt to an unwanted child. Had he been born into the warm embrace of a caring family, the harsh truths of the world might have been kept at bay. But Zane had a face that even his mother couldn't love and, as a result, he had been bouncing around the foster care system since before he could remember. 

Babies, typically, have a fair shot at getting adopted but, here too, Zane's appearance worked against him. Everyone wanted to adopt a cute little bundle of joy but no one wanted Orion Zane. No family could stomach taking in a sallow-skinned, misshapen freak. Even his foster care families seemed to want to pass him on to the next home as soon as such a placement became available. By the summer he turned twelve, Zane had been through fourteen different homes. 

That fourteenth home would be his last. He'd lived at Mrs. Abernathy's house for little over a year before he hit his twelfth birthday making it his longest placement. Mrs. Abernathy _appeared_ to be a sweet older woman who liked to take in hard case kids. After all, she had three pre-teen foster children with her when she took in Zane. A jolly, red-faced church lady with a heart of gold was the ideal placement for a child that had yet to find acceptance anywhere. 

The reality was Mrs. Abernathy's one and only love was her bottle of Jack Daniels. The children she took in? Well, the extra check she got for caring for them certainly helped keep a full bottle at her side. During school days, she merely had to make sure they got on the bus in the morning. And on weekends and holidays? She'd hand her charges a granola bar or two, herd them out the front door, and lock it firmly behind them. The door would remain locked until just after dusk...sometimes later, if Mrs. Abernathy's date with her bottle of Jack caused her to nod off early.

No one ever questioned why Mrs. Abernathy's wards wandered the street all day, every day. Or, if they did, the red-cheeked, old woman would chuckle and say, “Oh! You know how good it is for children to play outside! They love to run around the parks, the little rascals.” Whether because it was too much effort to argue the point or because people are naturally inclined to latch onto their first impressions, no one ever thought to say otherwise.

First impressions and appearances had been the cause of a great deal of Zane's early woes but his hard-knock school had taught him well and now? He was a master of manipulating them. Whatever impressions Skye had once held of S.H.I.E.L.D. had been wretched away yesterday. Zane would like to take credit for that but, truly, it had just been a stroke of exceptional luck that the people Skye once held with such esteem had made such a spectacle of themselves in front of her. (Technically, in front of a camera, but it all amounted to the same thing in the end.) Their actions had certainly accelerated the timeline for his plan but Zane was nothing if not adaptable.

He'd been plotting this course of action since that fateful summer when he'd turned twelve. Birthdays weren't a thing in the Abernathy household. The fact that it was the day of his birth (according to the grimy birth certificate that followed him from school to school) didn't register for any of his fellow foster siblings or his foster mother. Since there was very little a freshly turned twelve year old could do without funds to celebrate the occasion, his birthday should have gone down much the same as any other day. Unfortunately, it was one of those blistering hot days where the heat index was off the charts and the weather channels were advising everyone to stay inside. The cement steps of Mrs. Abernathy's house was really no place to hang out on such a day so Zane tromped on down the road hoping to find shade or water at the local park. Instead, he found two other children: Adam Hall and Ryan Zuckerman. 

Adam Hall and Ryan Zuckerman _appeared_ to be model children. Adam was the son of the local minister. He volunteered at the church's food pantry on weekends, always managed to get exceptional grades on his tests, and was already a rising star on the local Little League team. Ryan, his best friend, was a crowd pleaser too. Polite, well-spoken, and with a slightly crooked grin, he was a hell-raiser with a knack for talking his way out of detention. Adults loved him with all his smiles and dimples, his 'yes ma'aming' and foot shuffling. He was all set up to be a heartbreaker in another few years.

The reality of their situation though? Zane had experienced both of their particular forms of torment before. Adam was the master of shoving people into lockers or toilets or other places they didn't belong. Ryan was just a step worse because he was relentless. All day, Ryan would pester and heckle Zane or whatever other misfortunate youth straggled past him. He'd even cajoled enough friends to upend Zane into a dumpster on the last day of school. The other boys had sat atop the lid for a full hour so Zane was left in the sticky mess of hot plastic struggling to breathe through the rotting lunch waste until all the other boys had been called home for supper. To make matters worse, Zane got back to Abernathy's so late he had no supper left waiting for him. 

To say Zane would rather avoid these boys was a gross understatement but, unfortunately for him, neither the dangerous heat that kept most people trapped inside nor the supposed birthday luck that some might have gotten just for turning twelve would keep him from this encounter. Zane had just gotten into the shade of the trees and felt, with great relief, the relative coolness of the air there when a stone came hurdling down from above and struck him sharply on the head. 

“What are you doing here, freak?” Ryan called. His friend was grinning next to him on a branch too far up the tree for Zane to really see. Another stone came whirling down toward Zane. This one hit him on the shoulder. 

Zane cursed his classmates initiative for trouble. Why did they have rocks if they were sitting up in a tree anyway? Ducking his head, he mumbled a response and tried to move beyond their range. 

A third stone hit him on the cheek, opening a cut. Hot blood oozed down his face but he was so hot and sweaty from his time in the sun, he didn't notice the difference.

“You're not wanted here, freak. I'm pretty sure there's a sign by the park that says you have to at least _look_ human to enter.” Another rock. This one missed.

“Stop. Please.” Zane had asked only to feel another stone cut into his flesh as it punched against his chest. Blindly, he reached down grabbing the rock that had just hit him. He had only meant to throw it back at his tormentors to make them relent for a moment. His only design had been to get further into the forested park, to get away from both the brutality of the sun and his classmates alike. But his birthday luck picked the oddest moment to show up and the rock he threw back flew straight and true. It struck Adam right between the eyes so hard that the stone actually embedded a little in his forehead. It took but a moment but finally both the rock and boy tumbled from the tree with a sickening thud.

Frozen in fear, Zane watched as Ryan scurried down the tree and over to his friend. He watched as the other boy shook his friend, called to him, pressed his hand over his heart. Ryan went white. Then red. “You killed him. YOU KILLED HIM!” 

And, with those three words, Orion Zane felt truly accomplished for the first time in his life. For once, Zane had felt there could be justice in the world – if he could just reach out and take it. Ryan's death had been much less clean than his friend's. It had been a hard won fight and Zane had taken as many, if not more, punches as the other boy. But, as the childhood rhyme so warns, sticks and stones _can_ break bones. Zane hadn't gone back to the Abernathy house because his meager belongings weren't worth the risk but he had gone onward with the knowledge that death could bring such a sweet peace to a survivor. Peace and justice – what more noble cause could anyone strive for? 

Zane dug through the closet of the apartment he'd spent the night in. The clothing looked to be far too big and dowdy for Skye but he found a colorful cotton scarf and an oversized pair of sunglasses that might serve her for a disguise. He knew she likely wouldn't need a disguise. As far as he knew, there was no APB out on Skye but since he'd told her as much to keep her from racing out to find her friends last night, he would have to keep up appearances. He would modified his own too. He'd go for dark hair, be a little shorter, more muscular. As disguises went, his would be far better than Skye's but there was little who could do to change that.

There were other things he could change, things he could control. Step one in maintaining his story was making sure that Skye couldn't get in touch with her less deserving friends. Zane was happy that Mike and Kara Lynn had gotten Skye this far, delighted with the run in at SHIELD that had really set things in motion, but those two were still merely human, still lesser than they should be. Skye might have seen them as valuable friends but that had to change. Skye needed a clean break from the people in her past that were tying her down, preventing her from realizing her full potential. Zane was sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. would assist him. They would surely get rid of Ward, his most difficult hurdle. Mike and Kara Lynn? Well, they just weren't going to answer the phone today.

The cafe he'd arranged to have Skye 'meet' some fellow Attilanians would be operated today by one of the Evolutus Guard. He had made sure to get in touch with them last night, using the phone he most certainly hadn't left at the last hotel. The phone at the cafe would be a dummy phone. Skye could call anyone she wanted and the phone would ring and ring and ring but that signal wouldn't go anywhere. 

And tomorrow? The day after next? By then, it wouldn't matter. The Guard was everything and Skye would see that once she got over this little bump, once she could see the larger picture. The larger picture was what Zane was set to paint for her today. He knew that it wouldn't be advisable to just tell her about his Guard. He knew that to the world at large, they were nothing more than sadistic terrorists. The biased media was working against him, to turn his acts of preservation, his commitment to bettering the world into something dark and twisted. But, one day, the members of the Evolutus Guard would be heralded for what they truly were: heroes. And today? They'd take a giant leap towards that new reality.

Today was the work of years of sacrifice. It had been an investment in patience, in building the right sort of friendships, of acquiring the right supplies. For most of these years, he hadn't planned to walk away from this day. He'd always imagined his freedom from the judgement and brutality of the world would come at the price of his life. This was to be the grand finale to his smaller works. His magnum opus, his final act. But three months ago, while eating pie in little diner on the edge of D.C. as his urge to kill ate at him, Orion Zane's plans had shifted ever so much when Skye came in and introduced him to a much larger reality. 

_She_ had taught him that there was more to be done than just seeking retribution for the humiliations he'd once faced. 

_She_ had shown him that they weren't just a handful of mutated freaks. 

Zane had always known he was different but his encounter with a diviner shard, like much else in his life, had not been his choice. The reasons for his powers had never been fully comprehensible until Skye came with her story of alien races and evolutionary splits in the genetic tree of humanity. Until then, his only rationale had been to give as much pain back to the world as he felt he'd received. Now, he had a true justification – a higher calling even. If they weren't just a handful of mutated freaks, if there was a much larger society of people like them, perhaps, _this_ society was what needed changing. 

Skye was hope. Zane knew, one day, she'd be responsible for giving that hope to so many of their kind. Today, unfortunately, some of theirs would have to pay the ultimate sacrifice to put her on that path. But, that too, was a mercy. By the nature of their abilities, some of his Attilanian friends craved their end; their abilities gave more pain than power. And to die while giving birth to the rise of their people? No sacrifice could be more noble. Zane would make sure their sacrifice would not go unsung. He would see that, when the dust cleared, and the righteous were sorted out from the wretched, their stories would be told. 

His story, too, would be one full of the heroic valor that would be talked about for ages to come – all thanks to Skye. It would have been such a waste for him to leave the world on this day. This didn't have to be his final act. What if Monet had stopped with haystacks? The world would never have had his water lilies. What if Beethoven had stopped after the Moonlight Sonata? The world would never have his 9th symphony. 

Today was only the _beginning_. 

Entering the room where the other Attilanians were, Zane ignored their cold, blank stares. He felt bad for this crowd but it was obvious they were too broken to be of much use one way or another. Had they shown any willingness to commit to his plan or any self-preservation instincts or even just basic gratitude, Zane might have given them a heads up. Instead, he smiled blandly at the others in the room as he scanned it for Skye. 

His Skye looked worse than she did the day before. Her skin was paler, her eyes puffy from crying, and she had dark rings under her eyes. The poor girl would have a tough time today too. But, then, she'd see that sometimes the world's wrongs could be re-worked, could be made right. Zane looked forward to putting the smile back on her face, that sassy bounce back in her step. He looked forward to having the gratitude he knew Skye would give him once she understood all that he had done for her. For _them_.

He handed her a pair of oversized sunglasses and a scarf. “You'll need to make sure no one can tell who you are. We don't want to get picked up on our way in.” His careless smile was as much of a lie as the words that fell from his mouth. He could not wait until the day when he didn't have to keep up appearances for _her_. Lying to her was distasteful to him but, for today, he had to maintain this charade. 

She glanced at the one called Videmus first then back at him. Her smile was weak, tired. Again, Zane felt a surge of protectiveness for her. He knew that was another thing she'd be grateful about. She didn't really like the eyeless one and he'd make sure she didn't have to see him ever again. Taking the scarf, she wrapped it around her hair, obscuring it. She slid the glasses onto her face and said, so sweetly, “I'm ready.”

His Skye – ready for anything. Even as tired as she was, she would brave the day! He wanted to take her into his arms, pluck the glasses from her face, and kiss her but now was not the time. First, she needed to see why the others were so wrong for her. Only then would she be ready to come to him. Reaching out, he tucked a stray strand of hair back into her scarf. He thought, perhaps, she'd shivered at his touch. Was she already so affected by him? He knew that her infatuation with that human could only last so long. Grant Ward may be a pretty piece of eye candy but he was not a viable option for someone as precious as Skye. If she felt half as much need for him as he did her perhaps his true reward would come sooner rather than later.

With that though simmering in his mind, he exited the apartment. It truly was such a glorious day. The sun was shining brightly in an azure sky speckled with the white puffy clouds people would feel comfortable painting on a nursery wall. Birds were chirping from the trees. Zane was tempted to hum as he led Skye down the street but knew there was still a lot to accomplish before the day could be 'glorious' in more than just appearance.

Last night, Evolutus had set up three minor explosive devices around the New York Stock Exchange. Zane fully expected S.H.I.E.L.D. would arrive in time to deactivate them but, if they didn't, the damage would mostly be superficial. Loud and flashy but hardly damaging. The explosions were set to go off at 9 and, whether they succeeded or not, Zane was sure that some sort of law enforcement would be on hand to capture the obviously inhuman couple that would walk by the Exchange that morning. 

It was his job, of course, to make sure that Skye would see that; she would see the unnecessary use of force on hapless pedestrians, see the prejudgement, the prejudice that her kind constantly faced. He would nurture her outrage. After all, he'd been controlling appearances for so long he knew just how to set to scene, to make it work to his favor. And the couple that would take the fall? They'd been part of Evolutus long enough to know just how to provoke a most satisfying retaliation from S.H.I.E.L.D. He was sure that this was the last push Skye needed to see to realize the righteousness of their cause. Change needed to happen for peace and justice to reign. 

Zane could gift her with that change. 

For every act of shaming humiliation or pain that humans had forced a member of Evolutus to endure, a demolition charge of C-4 had been loaded into an old subway train car parked indefinitely in the City Hall Loop, an abandoned station under the heart of New York City. His masterpiece was a work of great patience. The record of pain that went back years appeared to be almost frivolous when it amounted to only seven cars filled to the brim with those malleable bricks of pent-up disaster. 

Those seven trains were set to roll out onto the underground tracks at intervals today. Zane would let Skye remotely trigger the seven underground explosions if she so desired. After their little show in front of the NYSE, he would take her to safety, take her to a place where she could have whatever vengeance she desired. Those explosions would disintegrate the very ground that the city was built on. Lower Manhattan was only about five feet above sea level. After today, only piles of rubble would manage that feat.Today, they would wash the city clean of all that human filth. 

As they neared Wall Street, Zane looked over at Skye. She'd been very quiet, no chatter, no babbling. She was currently eyeing a rusted out, blue conversion van parked on the side of the road. In the window a broken Benjamin Franklin bobblehead looked forlornly out at the world. Skye looked so intrigued by the vehicle that Zane, too, stopped to stare at it. “Can you believe they let that thing be parked here?” he asked, trying to guess at what thoughts had fixated her on the vehicular eyesore.

“What? ...uh... yeah.”

Zane laughed at her incoherence. “You need caffeine. Badly. Lucky for you, we're here.” He waved her through the door to the cafe and gave a slight nod to the man behind the counter. It was nearing 9AM. Zane knew that her attention would have to be on the street outside soon but he fully expected her to dash to the counter and demand to use the phone. Clearly, she was too tired to manage even that so Zane hastily ordered two coffees. Black for her. Cream and two sugars for him.

“Skye?” he asked, holding out his offering of coffee for her to take. Her focus on the street outside was just what he would need in a moment but he really wanted her to try her call first. He really needed her friends to appear as if they had cut and run and left her alone but for him. “Do you want to call Mike and KL?”

She hadn't taken off her oversized sunglasses so much of her face was still obscured. She nodded slightly though and made her way to the counter. Zane watched as she called, watched as no one answered. He was impressed by her lack of reaction. He'd expected more anger but, clearly, Skye had less of an investment in these so-called friends than he had once thought. 

They sat in the window, facing the street. Zane had a clear view of the wall clock and he could barely keep himself from counting down. There was next to no pedestrian traffic today so Zane knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was likely already there. Did they clear the Exchange? Did they buy his faux threat and respond just as he hoped? They must have, at least, set up detours around Wall Street to limit pedestrian traffic. Though he didn't remember passing one on the way in but, then again, he had been so focused on other things.

His foot tapped impatiently on the floor as he stared down the long minute hand on the clock. It clicked away the time. 8:50. 8:51. 8:52. 8:53. 8:54. And then they came! Just as planned! 

Olivia Ernest would not have needed to undergo elaborate makeup to star in the old Hellraiser movie. More pin-cushion than human, her powers never made up for the pain they caused her. Her partner on this fine morning was Roberto Lopez. Lopez had an excess of skin but not in the way most people did. He was not overweight at all. Truly, he was mostly just skin and bone. His power allowed him to control the dangling excess he had but this did little to aid him. Even Zane could hardly suppress the urge to meanly describe Lopez as the inhuman version of silly putty. It was a useless power especially since, aside from sheer excess, his skin had no super strength or invulnerability. He just had a lot more of himself to hurt. That coupled with the stares and taunts Lopez faced on a daily basis meant he'd readily volunteered for the suicide mission at hand.

A man oozing with skin and a woman dotted with pins walked slowly down the street together and, just as planned, the men and women in black body armor came down on them. Zane had to bite back his laugh of delight. Everyone was just so predictable...

From out of alley ways, from out of the Exchange, they dashed steadily toward the inhuman couple, guns drawn, commands of “Halt!” being shouted.

Zane glanced over at Skye only to find she was no longer sitting across from him. She had stood up with such haste, she'd knocked over her untouched coffee and the steaming liquid was sliding across the table, splashing down to floor.

Skye darted toward the door and had almost pulled it open when Zane reached out to grab her. “Skye? You can't go out there! It isn't safe!” He pulled her back with such force, the sunglasses flew from her face and for the first time, he saw her look at him with something close to loathing. For a brief second, he thought he'd let his appearance change back to the one he'd been born with, that she was seeing the ugly and misshapen creature he was underneath it all. It froze him in place just long enough for her right hook to slam into his face with a resounding crack. Then, she wretched free and was out the door.

“Don't shoot them!” She called to the amassed agents, drawing the sights of their guns to herself. “It'll trigger something worse...don't shoot. Just, please...”

Zane didn't know how she'd found out about that aspect of the plan. He'd been so careful. She hadn't had contact with anyone else who would know. Or had she? Had someone betrayed him? Worse, Skye herself was throwing him over to S.H.I.E.L.D., undermining the necessary purge of humanity that would make the world safer for their kind. 

This wasn't how she was suppose to act. 

She was suppose to be grateful. 

She was suppose to understand. 

She was suppose to be _his_ Skye.

Not this horrifying, backstabbing, bitch. 

He could see one of the men in black break formation and stride towards her. It was an older gentleman, the one they'd encountered at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Coulson? He knew Skye thought a great deal about this man once. That he'd been a mentor of sorts. But would she really choose him now? Would Skye choose the man complicit in the torture of their own kind over _him_? 

Zane let out a howl of rage and strode out into the street. Immediately, he had all guns, all agents trained on him. He didn't care though. In fact, he found it rather funny. With a crazed laughter, he let his skin ripple and change. “You can't shoot me.” 

Apparently, that was a statement that demanded to be tested. One agent, a tall woman with fierce eyes, pulled the trigger on her gun. So, technically, they could shoot him. Still, he'd made his skin of stronger stuff. The bullet ricochet off him and pinged uselessly on the street. 

“You can't tackle me.” This time, he took the demonstration into his own hands and changed to something so small he appeared to vanish. If anyone blinked they would have missed it. When he came back, he was much larger and barely any resemblance to humanity had been stripped away. He was stronger, faster, and better now. “There's nothing you can do to stop me.” 

“We aren't here to stop you,” the man called Coulson said, he kept his voice even and carefully moved his gun to his side, as if his show of submission mattered when every other agent was still ready to take him out. “We're just here to get Agent Skye.” Slowly, he held a hand out to her. Zane held his breath. For a moment, he thought that Skye could make everything right again. She could reject this false call for peace, could return to him. But then, the traitorous bitch reached out to take the hand of a man who'd committed crimes against their people. 

With that last betrayal, Zane felt the last of his hope die. If everyone wanted Skye so badly... well, he'd see to it that they couldn't have her. She was _his_. Zane's arm shot out with blinding speed. He grabbed the scarf wrapped around Skye's hair and used it to propel her back. With a cry of pain, she was pulled back into his arms, into his crushing embrace. “You...I would have given you everything. I would have given you the world.” Her pain made her more beautiful and he was momentarily distracted. But, then, he felt it. A slow burn ran up his arms. His skin starting to tremor, to crack. She was using her power against him! With a hiss of pain, Zane pulled back and landed a concussive blow to her head. Skye went limp in his arms, her power gone with her consciousness. 

“Orion,” Coulson was trying to console him again. “Let us talk about your demands. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement if you'll just...” 

A movement at the doors to the Exchange caught Zane's eye. A man in dark combat gear was moving towards them. Zane recognized Grant Ward even from this distance. Grant Ward working with S.H.I.E.L.D.? He should be dead. Or rotting in some subterranean holding cell. They'd all lied to him. Everything had been a lie.

Zane's focus came back just in time to see that Coulson had been creeping forward, was nearly on him, nearly had a hand on Skye. Lies. Betrayal. Trickery. Was there any question why humanity needed to be stopped? Zane thrust forward, colliding with the man, sending him spinning back onto the street. With a snarl, Zane said, “If I can't have her, no one can.” He would destroy her for denying him his due, for her lies, for betraying their kind. He would destroy them too. His plan wasn't that far gone. 

This wasn't how the morning was suppose to go. It didn't matter, now, if his scene played out with Lopez and Olivia. But, if nothing else, Zane was adaptable. He'd make sure they got their wish for death another way. He'd make sure that he moved forward with the rest of the day's design. Throwing Skye's limp body over his shoulder, he bolted away from the Exchange and ran blindly down the street toward the subway station on the corner. He could hear shots being fired behind him but if they hit, he did not feel it. He could hear the sharp pounding of booted feet on pavement and knew he was being pursued. It would not matter though for, today, luck was on his side. The last car of a train leaving the station was just visible as Zane reached the platform. With a fierce jump, he leapt out onto the tracks, grabbing the edge of the car. The metal of it was cold and bit painfully into his hand but Zane did not care.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Looking back at the agents just now gaining the platform, he grinned. _Nothing mattered_. That was a singularly freeing sentiment. With Skye still draped across his shoulder, Zane was whisked away into the darkness of the tunnels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra thanks go out to ExcellentlyEllen for breaking through some writer's block and doing her usual fantastic editing job. Thanks, too, to the readers who've liked and commented and kept giving me encouragement as the story unfolds. Phew! We're almost there!


	15. At least...

Ward carefully worked to separate the tangle of colorful wires as he watched the count run backwards. 9. 8. 7. Quickly, he cut the red wire. 6. 5. 4. Then he sliced the thicker green one. The countdown flicked off. There was no sizzle, no beeping, no sirens, and no fanfare. Just one more incendiary device made less so by the simple expedient of removing the trigger. 

“Don't take this the wrong way,” Mike said from behind him. “I mean, as much as I love following after you and watching you truly prove that all you really need to know you learned in kindergarten...I'd rather be doing something useful while you count, match colors, and practice your cutting.” Ward didn't acknowledge Mike's comment so the other man continued, gesturing at the recently deactivated device. “Doesn't this feel like a huge diversion?”

“It's not so huge.”

“No, I mean, they've got a million agents waiting outside to pounce on whoever might show up and we don't know what we're looking for. Or who. I mean, Zane has some understanding of how much bang S.H.I.E.L.D. can bring to the table. Why out yourself as the big bad, set up a meeting in a super public place, and just wait for trouble to descend?” 

“Yes. And _I_ mean that this,” Ward pointed to the deactivated 'bomb' with an expression that was a mixture of sheer frustration and disgust. “ _This_ is not so huge. They have me running the halls deactivating sparklers and roman candles.”

“Really?” 

“Not really. But it might as well be. Even if all three of those things blew up, you'd be looking at maybe a couple grand in smoke damage and a broker or two would need to run home early to change their pants. Zane had a lot more big and bad going for him last night at the community center.”

“So...do you think he'll even show here today? Or, maybe, he's just making us chase our tails for his amusement?”

Ward ran a hand across his face. They'd spent the whole night running through what Zane would and would not do, could and could not do. He hated that everyone seemed to think that he was the expert on the matter. Fitz-Simmons, Coulson, even his own team, Kara Lynn and Mike, would come up with some Zane-y (or just _zany_ ) scenario and then turn to Ward for confirmation. To be fair, he probably had more one-on-one time with crazed terrorists than the rest of them but he just didn't have the certification for Zane's particular brand of insane. Or Zane himself. If Skye was around...

He stopped himself from thinking too deeply on that and, instead, asked an unnecessary question: “Time?”

Mike obliged him with an answer. “Ten 'til. Can't hear anything going on outside yet. Kara Lynn?”

In his ear, a brief crackle of static and then a soft murmur, “Not yet. Street's almost clear though.” Ward didn't bother following up with more questions since it sounded like Kara Lynn was busy. It had to be difficult trying to pinpoint a potential hazard that could come in any shape or size. 

Or not at all.

That was the direction that Ward was leaning. These 'bombs' were more prank than plot and they had the vast majority of the New York S.H.I.E.L.D. team stationed outside to takedown anyone who showed up to claim it. It was overkill and not in the vivid, gore-streaked sort of way that Zane would delight in. 

“Let's hurry and clear this floor. I'm sure Director Coulson could use our help outside.” Without waiting to see if Mike complied with his terse command, Ward stalked down the hallway scanning doorways and dark corners with a Fitz-made detector that had all the beeping, sirens, and fanfare that the explosives themselves lacked. 

“Director Coulson, eh? When did you rejoin the S.H.I.E.L.D. ranks?”

“It _is_ his title.”

“Yeah. And we've been super great with using it to date,” Mike huffed. For several minutes, there was nothing but the tread of their feet as they strode through the tiled halls. “You wouldn't thought? Right?”

“Wouldn't what?”

“Don't be dense, Ward. You wouldn't go back? To S.H.I.E.L.D.? Personally, I don't care one way or another. I just like to know where I stand. And, Kara Lynn. She'll need to know.”

“I wouldn't just leave Kara Lynn hanging like that.” 

“So that's a 'no'?”

“That's a 'I haven't really thought about it. My mind's been preoccupied with other things.'”

Mike sighed dramatically. “Like Skye? You're solidly sure she's not in on this? Not somehow linked up with Evolutus?”

Ward stopped his prowl forward and swung to glower at his comrade in arms. ”I can't believe you'd ask that. Do you honestly think that _Skye_ would have it in her to … You saw those crime scenes.”

Mike shook his head. “I don't think she's in on that. But she can get pretty gung-ho about a cause and, honestly, I didn't really see you as Hydra until you just waltzed into the base so...”

“She's not in on this. I know. And you can bet, when she finds out that Zane's been playing her she'll be murderously pissed...that, actually, I'm kinda hoping I'm around to see.”

“What? It'll bring back fond memories of old times?” Mike chuffed a laugh as Ward flipped him the bird. “Joking aside, I do hope you're right on this. I'm just saying...none of this is making sense. These bombs. This meeting place and time. I think Zane isn't going to show up and then what? We've got no leads, no clues...we essentially have to wait for more bodies to show up and I'm not too keen to see that happen.”

It seemed providential that the static crackled in their ear again and the canny, distant sound of Kara Lynn's voice said, “Two obvious inhumans just showing up. You boys will want to get down here if you're done with clean up.”

Mike just raised an eyebrow at Ward as if to ask, “Are we done?” 

Taking off down the hall, the two men had barely made it to the stairs when Kara Lynn's voice broke added, “And Skye's here. Hurry!” Ward didn't bother running the stairs but, instead, leapt down the half flights. With all his enhancements, Mike could easily have outpaced Ward but he did not. It was unclear as to whether this courtesy was because he didn't want to impede Ward's dash to the entry or, rather, because he felt like being in front of Ward's weapon once he made it outside was a poor life choice.

By the time they got to the first floor, Kara Lynn's running commentary on the events outside had stopped making sense. She was rambling about pin cushions and piles of skin and Zane but the only thing that came across loud and clear was Skye was in trouble. Ward cleared the building just in time to see the massive monstrosity he assumed was Zane strike Skye across the head. She crumpled immediately from the force of the blow. He held her in his arms with the careless ease and familiarity that a small child might hold a doll. 

Ward drew his gun and started moving closer. He wished he'd been listening to the chatter from Kara Lynn. He couldn't recall what she'd detailed. All other agents were standing uselessly around Skye and Zane, guns drawn but not firing. Coulson, too, was right in the middle of the fray speaking with the monstrous man. Fitz-Simmons were fumbling with a sniper rifle just to his left. That was a godsend. While his weapon was fully able to hit from this distance, the accuracy wouldn't be as keen and he didn't have any desire to accidentally shoot Skye.

“Give that to me,” Ward hissed as he approached Fitz. He expected the scientist to pout or protest his audacity to demand the weapon but Fitz just looked relieved and handed him the rifle. 

Ward couldn't hear the exchange between Coulson and Zane but the ending of it was conclusive. The creature struck him with another ferocious swing, propelling him back. Ward raised the rifle and fired. He knew he'd hit the creature but nothing happened. He didn't howl with pain, didn't bleed.

“You can't shoot him! You have to shoot Skye!” Fitz yelled at Ward. There was a pause before he added. “It's a tracker, Ward. We need to be able to follow them.”

Leveling the gun a second time, he took aim. This target was much harder to hit. The creature had gone at least 100 yards further down the street and Skye's unconscious body was bouncing up and down on his shoulder. Ward took the shot just as Skye and Zane disappeared below ground, a flurry of agents running after them.

A soft beep, beep, beep started up on the tablet that Simmons was clutching. She looked up at Ward, eyes shining with tears, “You did it. You got the tracker on her. At least, we'll be able to follow.”

Ward wished that made him feel better but all he could think about was the pile of armless bodies from the night before. That monster didn't need long to do a lot of damage. He wasn't so sure he'd be part of a rescue mission or just going in to retrieve a corpse: Skye's corpse. Or whatever was left of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to ExcellentlyEllen for all her help and edits! You're the best!
> 
> And to those readers who've kept with this story...we're getting closer to the end now. Thanks for all your support!


	16. 2+2

When a mission is successful, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents endeavor to contain their exuberance with a shell of professionalism. They don't whoop and holler, they don't high five each other, or chest bounce. The smug smiles and congratulatory head nods or handshakes, however, lack any subtlety and they more than compensate for the lack of end zone dancing. 

When a mission is a failure, the very same shell of professionalism fails to prevent the broadcasting of the mission results. No one was crying or screaming in the street. There was no self-flagellation or hair pulling outside the New York Stock Exchange but the failure of the mission was apparent from the slumped postures, the sullen silences, and the morose aspect of the agents who wrapped up the operation. They set the building and streets to rights, took the two inhumans into custody, and broadcast the 'All Clear' with such abysmal ill will that Ward was fairly sure that S.H.I.EL.D. could be held responsible for the quick build up of gray clouds and cold drizzle that had eaten up the formerly cheery sunshine. Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. and Ward. 

“Stop looking like someone killed your dog. They didn't you know? Oscar's still gnawing cords over at HQ and we have a lead for the first time since everything went to shit,” Kara Lynn schooched over on the bench seat in the front of Skye's old van and Ward climbed up next to her. Mike was sitting in the driver's seat talking on comms with someone from S.H.I.E.L.D.. When he finished his call, he wasted no time in starting the engine and peeling out of the alleyway.

“We're reconvening this nonsense back at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Discussion of plots and plans and strategies. Blah, blah, blah,” Mike tore out onto the streets with the furious disregard of pedestrians and bumpers that was reminiscent of any and all NYC cab drivers. 

Ward took a moment to buckle up first before stating, “I'm going to follow Skye as soon as we have a lock on her location. I'm not waiting around for plots or plans or strategies. I've got my plan. Step 1: Find Skye. Step 2: Get her safely away from that creep. Step 3: Kill Zane. Am I missing anything?”

Kara Lynn worried her lip with her teeth before hedging, “Well, kind of. I mean, sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. has some fresh prisoners to try to interrogate but having Zane alive and well so we can figure out what exactly is going on with this Evolutus faction wouldn't go amiss. I'm sure Coulson isn't going to want him dead.”

“I don't care. It isn't like Coulson's been able to keep prisoners secured even in his brief tenure as director.” 

Kara Lynn snorted at that. “Really Ward? Like when we unwittingly snuck in a member of a known terrorist group into their HQ and let him run rampant?”

“That's beside the point. Zane's got to go. Besides, he's too dangerous to try to keep locked up.”

Mike shook his head from the driver seat and laid on the horn as some lady with a stroller (and no sense of self-preservation) trundled in front of the van. “Dangerous talk that. Don't get me wrong. I'm all on Team RIP Zane but what makes someone too dangerous to live? I mean, am I too dangerous? I can jump a vertical 30 feet, my legs and torso are bullet proof, and I can crush a car with my bare hands.”

“Or with your driving,” Kara Lynn muttered as Mike swerved into the middle lane.

Ward ignored the side commentary. “I'm not defining the standards on how to deal with enhanced individuals. This isn't about you, Mike. Zane's shattered any right he had to trials and protective custody the moment he... Look, there's simply is no discussion on this.”

Kara Lynn didn't seem ready to give up the discussion however. “What about Skye? She used to kill with her touch. By her account it took, what 3 months? More? Before she wasn't dusting people. And her earthquakes? Those could be city levelers if she went rogue.”

“How is any of this relevant to the issue at hand? We should be talking about how we're going to retrieve Skye not how she's a potential danger to society. Zane is the psychopath that's de-limbing children, who kidnapped Skye right before our eyes today with unnecessary force...”

“I'd say the force was pretty necessary,” Mike said and then immediately started backtracking when Ward shot him a most murderous look. “I just mean that you don't kidnap _Skye_ unless she's unconscious. That girl can cause a lot of trouble when she's awake. You of all people should know!”

The van pulled into an underground garage as three S.H.I.E.L.D. techs came out to check the back before giving them clearance to park it. Ward didn't wait for the clearance. He hopped out of the van while it was still moving and stalked off into HQ with a trail of techs trying to slow his progress.

“Too much?” Mike asked his remaining passenger. Kara Lynn just rolled her eyes as she got out leaving Mike to deal with the paperwork.

“Too soon?” He called after her as security pulled him to the back to start inspection on the van.

***

Inside, Ward found the conversation was not any more relevant than that in the van. Fitz-Simmons were going on and on about triangulating and signal intervals and something about data towers. Coulson was still getting a once-over by the med staff and May was situating the two Evolutus members in an interrogation room. Fitz-Simmons hadn't gotten any better with plain English in the duration of his absence from S.H.I.E.L.D. and, when Ward mentioned it, Simmons gave him such a pinched look he decided he'd have better luck following May to interrogation.

“I'm not sure we're going to get anything out of them,” May said as he drew near. Ward was amazed at how quickly he'd fallen back into the routine of teammates and colleagues with her. Perhaps the feeling of normalcy came from the fact that even in the midst of their relationship – if their quick fling could be called one – she'd never been all warm and fuzzy. May did cold and emotionless very well and Ward liked the comfort of its familiarity. He understood it better than he understood almost any other relationship he'd stumbled into since. Peering into the interrogation room, Ward almost smiled as Kara Lynn's ramble about pin cushions and piles of skin suddenly made a lot more sense. 

The duo dejectedly slumped across the table from a tall, attractive S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with a no nonsense take on interrogation. Ward thought he detected just a hint of relief in the dark eyes of the man with more skin than substance. Still, any positive emotion was virtually drowned out by the sheer oppression of hate, worry, and fear that took alternating turns of owning his facial tics. “Looks like a suicide mission. He's relieved to still be breathing but pissed he didn't manage his goal.”

May quirked her head towards him. “Suicide mission? How so? You said those bombs were hardly functional.”

Ward squinted his eyes and compressed his lips as he tried out various possibilities in his mind. The suicide mission felt right though he hardly had anything to back up his intuition. “Maybe they didn't know that? Let's pretend for a moment that Zane is calling the shots on this op. He sets up a bunch of low grade explosives and has a duo of obvious inhuman characters march by moments before detonation. He was there watching to? Where'd he come from?”

“Orion Zane and Skye both came out of a coffee shop across the street. We still have agents sweeping the place. Last I heard, they'll be bringing the owner in for questioning too.”

“Right. So, he wanted to watch S.H.I.E.L.D. dispose of a threat. With Skye. He was hoping you'd come out guns a-blazing.”

“Still not our standard...”

“Zane doesn't know that. He's had a very one-sided S.H.I.E.L.D. education. I doubt Skye talked much about you guys and if she did, it would've been war stories, tall tales: aggrandized, comic book level of bang-bang action.”

May huffed. It could have been a laugh.

“The only time he saw you in action? We were in the control room and watched the military interrogation of Videmus and crew. It was...unpleasant.”

“So, Zane puts 2 and 2 together and comes up with 10? What's the point of offing the help?” She nodded toward the interrogation room window as her left eyebrow rose inquiringly.

“This is where it kinda runs into the ground for me. I mean, what's the point of a suicide mission? They just seem...pointless. Never go into something you can't reasonably get out of.”

May stood silently at his side for a moment. It wasn't uncomfortable even though they both spent the time deconstructing their own darker impulses.

May finally broke the silence. “They can't get out of who they are and they may not have had much choice in that. And the point? Well, such mission will energize the base. A righteous death for a cause? That'll get those on the line to rise up.”

“Was he broadcasting?”

“Not that we can tell.”

“So...”

“Skye. He was trying to impress upon her a need to align with him. She, apparently, caught on before she was dragged in today but Zane was expecting her to side with him.”

Ward shook his head furiously at this. “No. That doesn't...”

“Come on, Ward. Pull her off that pedestal. Skye can fall for misdirection just as well as anyone else. More so, sometimes, because she's got such a passionate sense of right and wrong.” She held a hand up to stop his immediate rebuttal. “I know how angry she was when she left HQ yesterday. She feels we've wronged her and Zane was trying to win her over to his cause early this morning.” May paused and let that sink in when Ward's face remained stuck in its stubborn frown, she added, “...which means there is a much bigger end game than those bombs at the Exchange.”

Ward didn't waste time arguing with May about the probability of Skye falling into collusion with a cult. Instead, he nodded. “Those bombs were definitely professional grade if pathetic in terms of firepower and deployment. That's entirely possible, likely even. So, where does a genocidal monster stick a big bomb in NYC?”

An eager Fitz-Simmons came scurrying down the hall as if on cue. “The tracker has stopped! We've got a location!”

Ward and May turned as one toward the engineer and xenobiologist. 

“Skye's in the Old City Hall station.” 

Ward counted quietly to five. He knew that they'd fill in with more information than that if he just out waited their own impatience to chatter. Sure enough...

“We weren't sure at first.”

“Our underground signal viability is really sub-par...”

“But she's definitely down there and the signal has remained stable...”

“For at least 10 minutes. It's definitely...”

“...a lock on her position...”

Ward wondered if anyone had done any research in just meshing the two scientists into one body. If they had one mouth, their impeccable ability to talk over and into one another would be a lot less confusing.

“Great. I'm on it,” Ward said. He started striding back towards the equipment room. He was nearly there when he realized that May had kept pace with him.

“What about the bomb, Ward?” 

“You've got a team. Go find it. I'm going after Skye.”

“You're the best we've got on deactivation.”

May said that with such obvious reluctance, normally Ward would have delighted in her discomfort. But now? He knew where Skye was. There was nothing that could keep him from going after her.

“You haven't had me for some time. Best be time to train up someone new.” Kara Lynn and Mike chose that moment to amble in. It flared up Ward's former frustration with his teammates. He didn't need them as a distraction. Kara Lynn was far too injured for an extraction and Mike...well, “Mike's bulletproof. Try him out on your bomb squad.”

Ward grabbed whatever gear was easiest at hand in the equipment room and slid past the twin set of May and Kara Lynn. Both were glaring at him with an eerie similarity though, likely, for different reasons.

He reached the exit and turned back one last time. “You want my expert opinion on this? Go talk to your prisoners. They'll know what's up even if they were going to be dead for it. If my big master plan was revenge and glory via suicide, I'd make sure I knew how much revenge and glory were coming my way.” He opened the door then thought of one last thing. Turning back, he added, “If you can find Videmus, you can bet that he's up to his eyeballs with the who and what of this situation.” 

Ward strode out into the garage where he fully intended to borrow a car that was not a rustic blue conversion van. He called over his shoulder as he went, “Literally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, always, to the spectacular ExcellentlyEllen for her super speedy edits and excellent support. :)
> 
> To the readers who have been so generous with their comments, kudos, likes, and support - you're the best. Literally.


	17. Right to the Heart of the Matter

The old City Hall station was a beautiful piece of Guastavino architecture that had the kind of elegant decadence that would now seem rather frivolous on a public transit platform. And, truly, it was a frivolous station. The sharp curve of the loop was too dangerous for today's longer subway cars to navigate safely. Still, the fairytale like archways that made it such a gem of architectural history along with the antique brass chandeliers and delicately painted glass tile mosaics made the City Hall Loop station a curiosity. Occasional tours were offered by the New York Transit Museum until security concerns had them close the station to the public in 2004. 

After that, the 6 train would still make use of the track in order to reverse direction on its way back to the Bronx but a few quick searches online showed Ward that even that practice had been called to a halt several years back. Now, it was a graveyard of old trains that needed the sort of work that constant cuts to maintenance budgets would never allow. It was a waste of space and resources _and_ a damn fine place to hideaway. Ward had a pretty solid guess as to why the station had been abandoned though he still couldn't fathom how Zane managed such sway with America's largest transit authority. He supposed the silver lining to the whole heinous situation was, if S.H.I.E.L.D. really wanted him to deactivate the bomb, they were going to be _delighted_ to find out he was heading right to it.

Despite leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. in such a huff, Ward hadn't neglected to bring a comm link with him. He glanced one last time on the data in the tablet next to him as he waited for the light to turn green and opted to call in.

“Coulson.”

That was not who Ward had expected to answer the comm link. It gave him a pause but he gamely stumbled out with an only slightly stuttering “Uh...sir?”

“Ward?”

“Yes. I just wanted to let Agent May know that her bomb is likely in the Loop.” He did not add 'with Skye' but knew that Coulson was also likely dwelling on that fact. For all their differences an affinity to Skye was one thing they still held in common. “I'll be there in under five.”

“We're coming to the same conclusion on this end. Backup will be heading your way shortly.”

“Fantastic. Any chance you can clear the surrounding area? City Hall? Active platforms nearby?”

“We're on it.”

There was a bout of staticky silence. 

“Ward?”

“Sir?”

“If you can keep him talking, we can be there to assist the takedown and recovery. The longer you can engage with him, the longer we have to make sure this op ends with no casualties.”

“Understood.” It remained unspoken, to Coulson at least, that Ward was intent that there'd be one casualty: Zane.

“And Ward?”

“Sir?” The staticky silence returned as Ward swiftly parked the car he'd nabbed from S.H.I.E.L.D. next to a fire hydrant. It was going to land S.H.I.E.L.D. a $250 ticket but more important things were at stake and he didn't feel like circling to find a legal parking spot.

“Just...be careful, okay?” A pause. Ward didn't have anything to say to that. “And take care of her.” The comm link clicked off.

“Of course, sir.” Ward softly intoned though no one on the other end of the line would hear it.

He made his way to the subway terminal walking with the swift clip of a harried commuter. The current City Hall station had a service access to the lower levels where he could then get through to the old Loop station. Ward smoothly slid past the transit police and proceeded down the stairs. His 'look like you belong here and know what you're doing' strategy of handling security only ever worked if an All Points Alert hadn't been put out; S.H.I.E.L.D. had not yet told the transit authority that they had a giant bomb sitting on one of their tracks. He wondered if they were doing it as a curtesy to him or if they just hadn't gotten down to the alert the local authority level of their operation yet.

He wasn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth though. With one last glance at the brightly lit modern platform, he started down the damp, narrow stairs. He loosened one of his guns from its holster and fervently wished he had some enhanced ability. Night vision, super hearing. Really, at this point, anything would make this plunge into darkness less treacherous.

Gun drawn, he blindly made his way through the darkness of the lower floor until he came to the access point for City Hall Loop and, suddenly, he could see again. For a brief second he wondered if he had just uncovered some heretofore unknown super ability and then he realized that the light he was seeing was curtesy of the skylights that had once been another unique feature crowning the architectural over-achievement of the abandoned station.

“Ah! S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't disappoint this time. Though you are awfully early.” Zane's voice bounded around the platform. The curved, tiled archway gave the place a sonorous quality that would've given a master ventriloquist a run for his money in a voice throwing contest. It took Ward a full minute to realize that Zane wasn't on the platform at all but rather down on the tracks next to a row of battered train cars. His back was to Ward and he was fiddling with some wiring on the underside of the car. 

Ward leveled his gun to take the shot just as Zane turned and ruined it. The monstrous man still held onto Skye's unconscious body. He cradled her in front of him as one would a high school prom date rather than as one would hold a shield. It likely meant the man still had skin that was impervious to bullets. It didn't look all that much like skin right now anyway. Its shiny greyish tone was only a few shades off the train cars behind him. 

The sight of Skye's limp body clutched so intimately against the front of the other man made Ward's blood boil and, bulletproof or not, he deeply regretted not pulling the trigger while Zane's back had been turned. Ward wasn't the only one who felt some twinge of disappointment at the current stand of events. Although Zane had heard Ward coming into the station, he only now finally registered just who was standing on the platform above and his lip curled back into a sneer. “Oh. It's _you_.”

“Yeah. I'm real sorry to disappoint, Zane.”

“Well, I suppose you'll do as well as the next S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” Zane narrowed his eyes into a squint and added, “Though, with you, I'm just slightly less sure of the outcome.”

“Outcome?” Ward asked quirking his eyebrow up. Coulson had wanted him to keep Zane talking and it looked like Zane was just willing to oblige. 

“I know all about you,” The words were benign and a little out of the blue. Zane said them, though, in a manner that was more accusatory than cordial. “Did you know how much you disappointed her?” 

Ward shook his head slowly and scanning the platform for anyway to bring an end to this awkward standoff. “Poor Skye. All her life she just wanted to know who she was. Where she came from. She told me all about it. Her search for her parents, her family. She had such promise...”

Zane's use of past tense really grated on Ward. He would guess Skye had not really gone into details with Zane. If she had, he would've known that the 'kidnap the girl to impress her' route was really not the best one to take. In the periphery of his vision he could just make out a mess of wires and switches that looked too new to have weathered long in the abandoned station. So, there was a bomb and he was standing ten paces from its trigger.

“She only had to find herself, her fate should have followed. But you? You've only ever lived to serve others. I've heard those stories too. You're a traitor and a fool. What reason do you have to live? None. What right do you have to exist so carelessly when the rest of us struggle so…”

Damn. Really, how much did Skye tell Zane about him? Did the two of them sit around over pints of Ben and Jerry's and just pour out their frustrations? Or was Zane just extrapolating from a few careless comments? Ward couldn't tell but the way Skye's head was woozily shifting backwards suggested she was about to come to. He had to give her some time to get a handle on their situation. The longer she had to situate herself, the better she'd be at playing Zane. 

So, a diversion was in order. One that wouldn't make Zane nervous, that wouldn't cause him to move from his position. Small talk, right? Couldn't be that hard... “You're correct, Zane. I'm a traitor and a fool with no reason to live. What's your reason? Seems to me you're not long for this world.”

The other man laughed uproariously at that. Ward blinked. It wasn't that funny? He knew his small talk abilities weren't exceptional but he wasn't that bad, was he?

Zane struggled to get his words out between burbles of laughter. “Not this world, not long. You're right. But, I had a reason. Such a good one. And for Skye?” He ran a hand that was filthy with dirt and the greasy old oil of the train cars through her hair. It took everything Ward had not to react to the imposition of her personal space. “...I was going to make the world so much better.” 

Skye's frightened brown eyes blinked open and she stared up at Ward. She'd finally come to and Ward wanted to give her some sign that she would be okay but held, as she was, in the grip of a mad man, he couldn't think of any particular reassurance.

He quickly shifted his eyes away from her and back to Zane. “And, how, exactly were you going to do that?”

Zane's laughter bounded off the archways again and Ward realized the last time he'd seen such maniacal glee was after Garrett had run his hand through a general's chest. It was not the laughter of a sane person. For the first time in a long time, Ward genuinely wished that a S.H.I.E.L.D. crisis team would just dash in. Any time would do. Small talk simply wasn't going to keep Zane much longer.

“I'm not a wasteful man, Grant Ward. If there was a way to truly make the world better, I'd be all in. But somethings are just too broken to fix.”

“Are you too broken, Zane? Is that what this is about?”

“Me? Well, yes. Now that you mention it. I am broken. You're broken.” He jostled Skye. “She's broken! But for just a little bit, I thought...”

Ward strained not to glance down at Skye, strained to keep his focus on _talking_. “You thought?”

“I thought I could fix it. Just a little bit of it. For me. For her.”

Zane's manic high seemed to be careening back to earth. He looked drained, tired. Ward's eyes shifted down to Skye. He could see her trying to slowly realign her arms so she could use a powered attack against the man behind her. Unfortunately, his glance must have strayed a little too long because Zane's attention dropped to the woman in his arms and his grip tightened and then shifted. His mood shifted again with lightning speed. So too did Zane. Skye was no longer held between his large dirty hands but now she was sandwiched between two long, sharp blades. Ward strongly suspected the murder weapons for a great number of currently unsolved murders were standing right in front of him.

“Uh-uh,” Zane said in an eerie singsong voice as if he'd just caught a small child trying to grab a cookie just before dinner. “You're in a room full of C-4. It's an awfully volatile substance. Are you sure you want to risk it?” 

Skye looked to Ward as if to verify that information but Ward found he didn't know. He saw the trigger for the bomb but the C-4? Unless it was in the trains...

Zane's grin widened. “You were right about him, Skye. He's _good_. Didn't take him long to figure out where the explosives are. So, what now _super spy_? I've heard you like games...are you ready to play mine?” 

All Ward could see were the blades that flashed so closely around Skye. All Ward could think was where the hell was S.H.I.E.L.D.? All Ward could do, apparently, was continue this inane chatter with a mad man. “You know so much about me already. I hardly know anything about you. Let's start there.”

“Oh, fantastic. I like it. You're doing an excellent job staling, Ward. But, you see, I have an advantage.” He waited a pause, waited for a response but Ward was stubbornly refusing to provide any expression except his carefully neutral, blank stare. After a moment, Zane continued on. “I don't care. Not anymore. They can show or not. Doesn't matter. All that matters now is how you play the game.”

Ward's patience snapped. “What game? How is any of this a game to you?”

Zane ran the flat of his bladed arm across Skye's cheek. Ward could see her struggling to not respond to the provocation, could see her struggling to be brave. “Oh no. I've already cashed in my chips. This isn't a game to _me_ , you see. I wanted S.H.I.E.L.D. to come, to show Skye just how little they value inhuman lives but I can adapt this to you too, Ward. So, this is your game now. You can demonstrate to Skye just how poor her taste in men is.”

“How about we not talk about Skye as if she's not standing right here?” Skye muttered but her sass ended when Zane's blade pressed harder against her cheek, slicing it open. A trickle of blood streaked down the shiny silver of the blade.

“Your opportunity to weigh in today was lost when you betrayed me,” Zane hissed. It was the most negative emotion he'd expressed since Ward had arrived and, just as it quickly as it came, it was gone again, replaced by the weird jocular ambivalence. 

“Your game?” Ward rasped out. He reminded himself he couldn't take a shot. Couldn't shoot into trains full of C-4. He reminded himself there was a trigger. That those bombs could be disarmed. He reminded himself that Skye was strong...so strong.

“It’s easy! Just a little game of Would You Rather?” Another sonorous laugh, another oily smile. “Your choice Grant Ward. I'll abide by it. There's a timer on that trigger. Just over there.” Zane nodded his head to where Ward knew full and well there was a trigger. “It's set to go off in...oh, probably under five minutes at this point.”

Ward could hardly hear Zane. The pound, pound, pound of his adrenalin-filled blood was humming through him, ringing in his ears. 

“Cut the red, cut the green. You know the drill. Save the city. Or...” Ward held himself still, he didn't respond because he didn't want to delay the 'or' longer than was necessary. 

Zane let him linger for an agonizing moment. He was relishing his power, this moment of pain. “Or, you save Skye. At the end of the tunnel, there's an iron door that leads under even these tracks. Down, down, down you can go. There's an old shelter there. A bomb shelter. I don't think this was the bomb they were expecting but it'll probably do for the occasion.”

“What about you? If that bomb goes off, you die. If I save, Skye...you die.”

Again, a pause. Far too long of one, given the probable timeline. Finally, Zane murmured. “Somethings are just too broken to fix. I think I've finally come to terms with that today.”

What had been five minutes was significantly less now. His choice should have been instantaneous. Billions of dollars, millions of people saved – snip, snap – red, green. Or Skye. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that she'd become more than everything else but he knew without her, Zane wouldn't be the only man too broken fix in the dusty fractious half-light of this abandoned station. 

He started forward, toward Skye when she let out a small cry. “Ward...don't...”

It was that word, that plea that triggered the memory. He remembered, then, that far off conversation. Though it had been less than a week ago, a lifetime since had seemed to pass. A week ago Skye agreed to be _his_ on one condition. 

_I don't want you to choose me over anyone, anything. I want you to do what's right._

Her deal breaker. 

This was a rigged game. He wondered if Zane even knew that. Either way...he would lose.

But still, he'd said he'd try. And he'd promised he'd never lie to her again.

Pivoting, he ran madly at the trigger. He didn't bother cutting the lines, just ripped them from their board. First red. Then green. He turned to make the trip back, some buried sliver of hope urged him on, telling him he could do both good and right. That he could save both the city above and Skye below.

He turned just in time to watch as the formerly silver blade of Zane's right arm pierced through Skye's chest. First silver. Then red. And red. And red. And gone...

The man had disappeared. From monster to dust. He was there, then gone. Or not entirely gone. Ward could make out the black flicker of a small beetle flying up, up towards the dusty panes of the skylights above. He might not be able to shoot a flea from five hundred yards in a heavy wind. But a beetle from fifty? His bullet smashed through the exoskeleton of the insect, obliterating it completely before it shattered the antique skylights just beyond.

The glass from the skylight was still raining down onto the platform when the S.H.I.E.L.D. crisis team arrived. Coulson didn't seem to notice it. He jogged straight towards Ward, never slowing. Jemma Simmons was hot on his heels, med kit already open. Ward, too, didn't seem to realize the razor sharp glass that showered him. He knelt in the oily dirt on the unused tracks of the old train tunnel, Skye's unmoving body cradled in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks are owed to ExcellentlyEllen for her edits and support.
> 
> To the readers who like, follow, and review - thanks for your encouragement! It always helps. :)


	18. Blood and Roses

Five days. 

Ward had not moved from Skye's bedside for five whole days. He did not leave to eat, to drink, to shower, to sleep. He sat immobile, one hand firmly clasped over her own, and stared at the tubes that breathed for her, the machine that circulated her blood, the bags of fluids that were used to maintain her own. He held her hand as if he, too, was part of that network of things keeping her in this world.

The first few days of this were understandable. They all felt the overwhelming sense of loss which was further compounded by a sense of guilt for feeling said loss when, technically, Skye was still alive – if only just and only because of the machines and tubes.

When Jemma Simmons arrived on the scene, it was her skills that saved Skye from bleeding out in an underground tunnel. After that, she took lead as Skye's primary doctor. She'd given her a battery of tests but as the days wore on and the results came back, Simmons expression became more and more grim. She resorted to a degree of polite professionalism that bordered on robotic. Unlike Fitz, her shadow in this process, who only seemed to get more emotional as time passed. He even went so far as to pat Ward on the back with a degree of compassionate camaraderie that hadn't existed since before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Though no real hardship in itself, Fitz had also taken on the task of caring for Oscar since the pup's owner couldn't see fit to leave the medical ward.

May and Coulson, Kara Lynn and Mike, and an endless parade of other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that Skye had worked with came and went. They offered condolences, left teddy bears and flowers (a weird collection of roses and daisies from people who clearly had no idea flowers held meaning). The chirped well wishes and 'get well soons' and empty pledges to return when Skye was feeling better were met with Ward's resolute silence. Soon, they shifted their focus from Skye to him. They brought food. They brought coffee, soda, water. They brought magazines and books. He barely acknowledged any of it and, truly no one was offended by his impenetrable ill will. Their own methods of grief kept them otherwise occupied.

By day four, however, it was determined that grief, loss, and guilt could be overcome by one's sense of smell. So, on that fifth day, it was Mike who finally took it upon himself to break Ward's endless bedside vigil. He swept into the medical wing and dragged Ward bodily to the emergency shower in the lab and turned it on. Emergency showers, typically, are used to let lab techs who've been exposed to hazardous chemicals get quick relief from a burn. The water is always a little stale and not really meant for personal hygiene but Mike deemed Ward's situation 'emergency' enough. It would have been a much harder fight had Ward not exhausted himself with five days of sleep deprivation and self-imposed starvation.

While he held a sputtering Ward under the stream of tepid water Mike decided he'd have to make his point quickly or risk the now soaked Ward just trudging back to Skye's bedside and resuming his watch. “Ward, you're rank. Look, if Skye opened her eyes five minutes ago and saw you – or, god, man, _smelled_ you. She'd close them right up again. You need to go shower for real. Go sleep for like an hour, at least. And maybe eat something. Kara Lynn and I will keep Skye company until you're back to being fully human. She'll keep an hour.”

Ward, dripping and feral, took a swing at Mike and missed so spectacularly he slid on the wet floor and nearly fell flat on his back. Mike almost cracked a smile at that. 

“You're not going to be able to hit me until you get some rest. You do that and you can come back and beat on me all you want.”

“Promise?” Ward rasped. It was his first word in five days.

Mike shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

When Ward returned to Skye's side several hours later, he had a full stomach, a clean body, and enough of a power nap that he was moderately more functional. Still, he wasn't quite prepared for walking into a standoff between his old team and his current team. Kara Lynn and Mike had placed themselves firmly and protectively on either side of Skye's bed and were facing off with Jemma Simmons, whose mouth was pressed into a tight line of discontent, and Fitz who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. 

Ward knew he had missed a whole conversation because as he was coming in, the only thing he caught was Kara Lynn, her playful southern accent completely absent, insisting that “...It should be up to Ward. His choice. Not yours.”

“What's my choice?” he asked. 

Fitz-Simmons had their backs to the door and, at his question, turned so quickly towards him, he was able to catch the identical chagrined moues plastered on their faces before they tried to modify the looks into something a lot more neutral. He didn't bother repeating the question, just crossed his arms, and raised his brow.

Simmons' stark professionalism seemed to have been surprised out of her by his arrival because she wasn't the first to jump in and explain. Kara Lynn took up the task: “They want to unplug her, Ward. From the life support.”

The nap had done Ward well. He didn't react to that statement at all. There was no rage, no yelling. He just turned his cold, dark stare back to Simmons. She quivered under it. Fitz, behind her, shifted uncomfortably. “I know you care for her, Ward,” Simmons said the word 'care' in such a manner that suggested she was unsure if Ward and her held the same definition of the term. The word was sharper, clearer. Her eyes widened enough that Ward could see the 'but' coming before she vocalized it. “But she wouldn't want this. The lingering... We talked about it, in passing.”

“In passing?” Ward asked. His tone as cold and unrelenting as his stare.

“Briefly. Yeah. She would never want to just … If she can survive without all the machines, all the tubes that's one thing. But this...”

Fitz nudged her softly. “The tests, Jemma, tell him about the tests.”

Simmons nodded shakily, never taking her gaze off Ward. “Everything we've been trying, the blood transfusions, the suturing, it's like her body is rejecting our care. There's nothing I can do for her and this,” she waved at the beeping monitors, the bags of fluid, and the endless tubes. “Ward, please...”

Ward let them all sink into an expectant silence. He could feel the pitying stares of Kara Lynn and Mike on him. Could see Fitz's eyes wet with unshed tears, Simmons fragile serenity propped up by her relentless logic. He wondered if Simmons had relayed this information to Coulson yet, wondered how the older man would have taken the news. 

As if on cue, Coulson walked in with May flanking him. Ward watched his team move closer to Skye as if they'd have to battle over her silent, unmoving body. He had forgotten how little Kara Lynn or Mike actually knew about Coulson. If a battle was to be had, this was one situation where Ward knew Coulson would side with him.

“Can I have a minute of your time Ward?” Coulson said as May herded Fitz-Simmons from the room. Kara Lynn and Mike stayed where they were. Ward figured that was fair; they were part of his team, after all. Part of _her_ team.

Ward motioned for Coulson to continue. After a long glance at the room's other occupants, he handed Ward a plain manilla folder. Flipping it open, he was confronted with an 8x10 photo of Skye. It was the one she'd gotten taken for her first S.H.I.E.L.D. badge. Her eyes sparkled, her smile was real. He remembered that day. Her exuberance, her joy at being an agent. He flipped to the next page to find the forms and files that were standard in S.H.I.E.L.D. employment record: a physical, an eye exam, psych evals. Ward skimmed them briefly before looking up at Coulson. “Her file? What's the meaning of this?”

“Flip to the last one.”

Ward did and found that Skye had made a living will. She had a legally binding document that stated just how much life support she was willing to be on and for how long. 

Ward looked at the machines that were her acting heart, her lungs and looked back to the form that expressly stated she did not want such extreme treatment.

“What about after Quinn? We...she was on supports then too.”

“She was. And we had options.” Coulson's voice quavered just a little. Ward understood his use of past tense. They didn't currently have options.

“When did she make this?”

“After San Juan. She was upset, she had undergone a lot of tests. Medical, psychological. I think she just wanted some control, over herself, at a time she'd otherwise had none.”

Kara Lynn and Mike had come to stand next to Ward. Mike had taken the file from him.

“So, this is all against her expressed wishes?” Kara Lynn said. She gestured to the ventricular assist device and the ventilator.

Coulson nodded. “I'd hoped that...last time, there had been... I wanted another miracle.”

Ward understood the sentiment and didn't begrudge Coulson the action. After all, he'd gone against Skye's expressed wishes in the past when he'd thought he was doing something for her own good. “Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

Coulson's eyes were damp too. Like Fitz. The whole S.H.I.E.L.D. team must have had a good cry before coming in here to blindside him with this. “Because you have the right to choose. I think she would have wanted that.”

Ward's hands curled into fists so tightly that his knuckles blanched white. He didn't take a swing at Coulson but rather, barely managed an agonized whisper. “You think it is right that _I_ get to choose to let her die? Again?”

“Again?” Coulson asked.

Ward had never given his account of what had happened in the tunnels below the city. His entire being, his entire focus had only been on Skye. Five days of steadfast silence but, now, it came pouring out of him. A hot rush of words, sometimes jumbled, sometimes clear. Coulson took it all in, unblinking. Kara Lynn pressed a consoling hand to his shoulder and Mike remained unwaveringly at his side. 

When Ward was done with his telling, he did not feel relieved. He felt empty.

They stood in silence for sixty counts of Skye's heart monitor.

Coulson was the one who broke it. “A very wise man once said, 'If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?'”

“My choice didn't destroy my own heart,” Ward said with a nod toward the hospital bed. “It destroyed hers.”

“They're much the same thing, I think.” Coulson responded. “You saved millions of people, Ward, with that decision.”

“And I lost the only one that mattered,” Ward said softly. The heart monitor counted the silence again. Ten beeps and then Ward added, “I need a moment.” He watched them all nod as he resumed his place next to Skye, his hand over hers. “Alone,” he added when they didn't seem to get the point. 

His friends and Coulson filed out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them and Ward had Skye all to himself once more. The beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor and the hiccuping hiss of the ventilator were the only sounds. 

He pressed his head into her shoulder and tried to remember how she smelled. Not this stale, hospital smell. Not like antiseptic and lye. It was citrus – her smell. Once it had been as bright and vibrant as she was. Now? There was nothing left of it.

“You said you'd be mine,” he whispered to her. It didn't help. The only response he got was the psst, shh of the ventilator. Head resting against her, Ward tried to find the right path forward. The problem was nothing felt right. This empty shell was not Skye but unplugging her? 

He heard the door click open and he swung around to tear whoever had come in a new one. He was expecting Mike or Kara Lynn but found himself staring into the eyeless face of Videmus instead. He said the first thing that came to mind. “What in the every living hell are you doing here?” The answer to that stood behind Videmus, of course. Coulson stood just beyond the inhuman. He'd come a long way from the downtrodden director he'd been just a few moments ago. 

“He showed up this morning and has been trying to get in to see Skye since. He says he can help.” Coulson held his excitement tightly reigned in but Ward could almost feel it thrumming off him. He'd wanted a miracle; this man was offering one.

Ward and Videmus had never seen eye to eye. Figuratively. Though the literal was certainly true too. The older man had always treated Ward as something of a nuisance, the unnecessary baggage he'd carted around for Skye's sake. Ward's feeling for Videmus were slightly more conflicted. It was Videmus' poorly executed kidnapping that had finally patched things up between him and Skye after all. But, still, it was a kidnapping and, all other things aside, the man was still creepy as fuck.

His lack of eyes didn't seem to keep the man from staring directly at Skye as if he knew where she was. Perhaps, he did. The beeping monitors gave her away. But the turn of his face made it seem as if he was taking in the whole of the room, the wilting roses at her bedside, the pile of unwanted, untouched stuffed animals piled haphazardly on a table, the bags of saline, medicines, and donated blood that were being pumped through her system in lieu of her own. 

The older man clucked his tongue as if he was chiding an errant school boy. He waved his hand at Ward, at Skye. “You're doing this wrong. She can't work through all this alien material. You're diluting her. Stopping her natural ability to heal.”

“She can't live without it.”

“She can and she will.”

Ward shook his head and remembered the other man's rant about Skye's blood. His fixation with it. He remembered that Videmus, for all his poise, was not entirely sane. 

“You don't believe me but you saw what happened to me here. You were with her when it happened.” The other man pulled out a little black box from his pocket. Ward knew full and well that box contained his spidery eyes, his pocket-sized super power. Ward had been watching when the US military had cooked one eye until it burst. He wondered vaguely if that had broken Videmus' tenuous hold on sanity or reality or both.

“I tried to tell her. I _told_ you too. Her blood, like her mother's, has restorative properties. _Regenerative_ properties.” He popped open the lid of the box and two perfectly healthy eyes, creeping tentacles and all stared back at Ward. “Let her use her powers.”

“How?”

“Stop diluting her blood with all this,” he waved to the bags of fluids hanging on a pole next to Skye. 

“You know, I will find the most painfully creative ways to murder you if this doesn't work.” 

Coulson grimaced at Ward but the inhuman nodded, a smile blossoming on his thin lips.

With a decisiveness that had been absent the last five days, Ward stood up and carefully pulled the wires and tubes and cords from Skye. 

For a moment, nothing happened and then the heart monitor stalled. The flat line buzz became the only sound in the room. Fitz-Simmons, May, Kara Lynn, and Mike rushed in. All were gapping, open-mouthed first at Coulson and Videmus standing to one side and then at Ward hovering as he was over Skye's bed, one hand still full of the disconnected tubing and wires.

And then, a blip on the screen and the heinous buzz stopped. The silence was _almost_ deafening. It wasn't though because, when the next beep sounded, everyone heard it.

And then the next.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

This time the monitor wasn't chirping each time the ventricular assist device pumped fluids through Skye's body. This time it was monitoring an actual heart. Skye's heart was working again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits and awesomeness were courtesy of ExellentlyEllen. Thank you! You're the best!
> 
> A shout out to FavoredFire for keep Ward's tears at bay. Thanks for the advice. ;)
> 
> To all the readers that have been so supportive, this is for you. Your comments and likes really make it worth writing/posting. 
> 
> The 'very wise man' quote is from the Russian novelist Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. In general, it's my favorite statement about the rights and wrongs in the world though I'm quite sure he didn't mean it to be taken as literally as this story does.


	19. Apologies All Around

The constant chirp of an unusual car alarm woke Skye from her sleep. She wanted to pull the pillow over her face, roll over, and go back to sleep but Grant had her left hand trapped firmly in his. It would keep her immobile unless she got up enough energy to pull him along with her. She was rather surprised that she couldn't just burrow into him to block the noise. His distance from her was a little unusual. She was much more use to waking up because his whole body was tangled around her. Eyes still pressed close and her stubborn need to ignore the persistent beep of the alarm, she turned slightly only to discover another irritant.The sheets were too heavily starched, stiff and uncomfortable, they scratched harshly against her cheek. She was contemplating just how to cajole Kara Lynn into a hotel upgrade when a rush of memories caught up with her sleep-fogged mind. 

Her eyes snapped open.

The beep, beep, beep had not been a car alarm at all. The dim glow of a heart monitor kept the windowless room from plunging into absolute darkness. This was no cheap motel room. And Grant Ward was not tangled around her as was his wont because he was asleep in a chair next to the bed: the hospital bed – _her_ hospital bed. Which, frankly, went a long way to explain why she felt so sore.

Her memory of what landed her here was still a little hazy but she could tell that she'd been out for awhile. This was not the first night Ward had caught a few moments of rest in an uncomfortable chair. The dark smudges of sleepless nights shaded the underside of his eyes, narrowing the contours of his face. He had a shadow of unkempt facial hair too. His face had gone at least a couple of weeks since it'd seen the sharp edge of a razor. If she had to guess at it, he hadn't left her bedside at all. She wondered what hospital had allowed him to break visiting hours so frequently and then realized that was a foolish thought. Grant Ward made his own rules and if the hospital staff had ever bothered to kicked him out, his skill set way overqualified him for sneaking back in. 

She reached out with her right hand (the one not caught in his steely grip) and lightly smoothed the furrows from his brow. She watched, amazed, at how quickly he calmed under her touch. Even unconscious his response to her showed his attachment. She wondered if she could ever match his constancy, his fervor and then thought she was probably better off not answering such questions. She tugged on his arm again and this time, she was rewarded with his whole body tensing, awakening. For one quick moment, she was lost in his warm brown eyes and then Ward was on his feet. He leapt up so quickly, the chair he had been in tipped back and crashed onto the tile floor. He dropped her hand and she felt the absence of him dearly for the half second it lasted. Then both his large hands came to rest on her cheeks framing her face, tilting her head back. His fingers stroked lightly across her chin. His eyes devoured her face. She wished she could see what he saw. His intensity was making her feel self-conscious. 

"You okay?” he rasped, sleep had roughened the edges of his voice and deepened it.

Skye nodded. She felt like she'd slept a little too long and run a little too hard the day before but that was nothing that merited night vigils by hospital beds and tenaciously annoying monitors and scanners and whatever other medical crap seemed to crowd around her bed.

“Don't ever do that to me again," he said.

The urgency of his command was such she simply nodded again in response. She wasn't entirely sure what she was agreeing to never do again. Break into S.H.I.E.L.D.? Break out of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Get stabbed by a crazed former friend? She was pretty sure she'd crossed all of that off her bucket list permanently. 

Her oblivious acceptance was rewarded, however, when his lips came crashing down to hers. The heart monitor's constant beep sped up but neither Ward nor Skye paid it much mind. He was not gentle with this kiss. It was hot and fierce and demanding. He slid his hands to her shoulders and leaned in. Like a wave crashing into her, Ward was everywhere at once, eroding her uncertainty, pushing away anything that wasn't the feel of him, his intensity, his urgency. Skye found that even still, she wanted something more. She wrapped her arms around his trim waist, tugging him forward onto the bed. They fell back onto the scratchy starched sheets and the movement jarred enough of the machines still attached to her person that it disconnected the heart monitor. The cadence of the beeping turned into a flatline buzz and, not a moment later, the door to the room burst open.

“Oh! Oh...uh, Skye's okay? I'll just...” Jemma's voice drifted over them and Ward pulled back from Skye only to shoot the doctor a menacing glare.

Skye did not expect to see Jemma Simmons as her attending doctor. Her expectations were further confounded when Jemma did not either flee the room in terror when Ward seared her with such a malevolent look or come raging after him intent to kill. Instead, she found her friend just looked back at Ward with a degree of indulgent impatience as she replied, “If you'd not flatlined her, I wouldn't have just rushed in. Blame yourself.” She then turned her gaze to Skye. “It's good to have you back. I'll, uh, I”ll give you two a moment.”

The door swung close behind Simmons retreating back.

“Ward, why is Simmons here?”

He seemed much more interested in diving right back into that kiss. His mouth roved across her face, nipping lightly at the corners of her lips. For Skye, however, the moment had passed. Madly making out while your friend stood waiting just outside the door didn't have much appeal.

“Ward?”

He trailed hot, open kisses down to her jaw line and then down further still. It was almost enough to cause Skye to forget about Simmons, forget about everything besides the feeling of Ward around her, on her.

Thankfully, he finally pulled back and answered her. “You're in the medical ward at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Skye. Do you really think Simmons would pass off your care to someone else?”

“I'm in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ?” Skye's eyes narrowed. Then the more intriguing implication followed. “ _You're_ in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ?”

Ward shrugged sullenly. He righted the chair he'd knocked over earlier and took back his place next to her bed. He was just in time because as soon as he resumed his seat, Fitz-Simmons, Kara Lynn, and Mike came pouring into the room.

Skye realized that it must be the dead of night because, aside from Simmons, each of her other friends was dressed in pajamas. Kara Lynn had on little more than boxers and a large shirt. Mike was suspiciously missing a large shirt but had on a pair of sweat pants and enough metal on his body to make the lack of clothing less apparent. Fitz had on the most pajama-y clothing of them all: a matching flannel pajama set that had to have been purchased in the juniors' section of a store. It had a whole variety of comical monkeys on it and banana shaped buttons. Truly, it was something only Fitz could have pulled off. Skye couldn't contain her smile.

Simmons came over and immediately started to poke at Skye. A body scan took her vitals and Simmons hurriedly inputed the information into a tablet.

“Does this hurt?” Simmons asked press two fingers firmly beneath her clavicle.

“No,” Skye said.

Simmons continued to flit around her with several devices that could be medical scanner or could be price scanners from the local grocery store for all Skye could tell. Simmons was too busy typing into a chart and making little 'hmms' with each note she put in. Occasionally, she'd prod Skye and ask how something felt or tell her to take a deep breath. Skye did it all without question. She reserved her questions for everyone else.

“Uh, so...how long have I been out?”

Fitz answered this. “Three weeks and 4 days. You'd have to ask Ward if you wanted the hour or minute count on that.” Skye almost fell off the bed. Fitz joking with Ward? Was this an alien invasion? Demonic possession? Really high-grade psychotropic drugs?

Her confusion must have been evident because Mike decided to offer some clarification. “When you disappeared after our excursion here, we all sort of came to a temporary truce so we could pool resources to get you back.”

“How temporary?” asked Skye eyeing each of the room's occupants for sidearms or concealed weaponry of any sort.

“I'm sure it will hold out another day or two,” Ward quipped.

“I need a recap. Of everything.”

Skye was astonished with how coherent it was when she got it. This was, largely, because Simmons was too busy running tests and writing notes to make a concerted effort to finish Fitz's sentences. 

When they neared the end of their side of the events, the rush to the underground tunnel full of C-4, a heroic rescue led by Ward but oddly narrated by everyone but the man in question, Skye only felt chagrined. The singularity of the feeling almost made her giddy. She imagined that she should feel more than apologetic embarrassment. She felt that she should feel that awful, jagged sorrow and burning, endless rage that had consumed her when she'd found out that Ward was Hydra. But she did not. She wondered if her righteous anger bled out of her in the underground tunnel left in the oily dirt of an abandoned station. Or, perhaps, it would find her in a few days when she wasn't still struggling to come to terms with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Ward working together seamlessly. She was thankful for her lack of blinding emotions however. She knew she owed her friends an apology for bringing Orion Zane to them. That had been her judgment call entirely and it had been entirely wrong. “I am sorry,” she said meeting the eyes of each of her friends. She ended with a quick glance at Ward. “I didn't know. I...I shouldn't have...”

Jemma shushed her. “Honestly, had you not made contact with Zane as you did, we wouldn't have found out about that bomb in time. The situation wasn't ideal but...”

“You're a great silver lining, Skye. And, at least we can all understand why you like Ward so much now. You both have really terrible taste in friends,” Mike cut in.

Ward threw a nearby teddy bear at him. “Hey...my 'friends' as you'd call them weren't genocidal.”

Kara Lynn snorted. “I don't think you're going to want to compare body counts, Ward.” She looked straight at Skye offering up a lopsided smile. “If you two start hosting dinner parties, I'm coming armed and in kevlar.”

Skye ignored their dark humor and returned to a more relevant line of questioning. “Did you get more than just Zane? The rest of the Evolutus group?”

Ward shook his head on this. “We pulled in the other two from the stock exchange but the whole group? I'm afraid we don't really know where to start on that.”

“But you talked to Videmus?”

Fitz and Simmons exchanged a look while Kara Lynn and Mike carefully did not. 

“Videmus?” Fitz asked in a way that made it clear he knew exactly who she was talking about but had been told by someone higher up in rank to not talk about the inhuman. 

Skye shifted her gaze to Ward but before he could respond, another voice entered joined the discussion: “I think that is a question that I should probably answer.”

Coulson stood just beyond the ring of friends. He looked careworn but less frazzled than when she'd last seen him. The memory of that last meeting burned away Skye's feeling of contentment. The beginnings of that jagged sorrow she'd thought would come with thoughts of Zane came instead when the corners of Coulson's lips turned up just a little in the tentative smile he gave her. 

“If I may have a moment of your time?”

Her traitorous friends—all but Ward—filed out of the room quickly. The door snicked shut. 

“Alone, Ward. I promise I'll return her in one piece.”

Gone were the days when Ward followed unwanted direction from Coulson with little more than a voiced objection and a grimace. He looked to Skye instead, waited for her slow nod, and then slid silently out of the room.

Coulson sat in Ward's chair. His glance shifted around the room, taking Skye in but never staying in one place. Finally, their eyes met. “I don't really know where to begin. Or who we should be.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand.” That was a half truth at best. Skye understood how he didn't know where to begin. They use to be so close. They use to be able to talk of anything. But San Juan had changed that. She'd been running from this encounter for months. 

“Would you rather talk with Director Coulson? Or, uh, 'AC'?” 

Skye's lips quirked up just a little at that. “I'd rather talk to AC but I think, maybe this once, we should hold to rank.” She paused and then added, “Sir.”

Coulson nodded. “I'm glad you're alive and that your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous.”

“Like officially? That's Director Coulson's line?”

Another small smile from the director. “Officially. Unofficially. Either way, I'm glad.” His smile dropped then. “Officially, I should be reading you the riot act for your disappearance. But, I think I'm going to start with something a little more important.”

Skye just raised an eyebrow at that. 

“I am sorry.”

The pause following the declaration went long enough that Skye prompted, “For?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has never been very good dealing with enhanced individuals. We catalog, we contain, but we don't really have a record for treating them as more than a mission objective. We handled you poorly. We were more concerned with where to categorize you than with, well, with you.”

Skye had felt that 'othering' from S.H.I.E.L.D. bitterly once. Now, she was more concerned with the treatment of others under their watch. “The index and the other inhumans you kept here...”

“Yes. The index isn't quite ready for you just as we weren't.”

“I'm not...we're not some new category on the Index, Coulson.”

“Technically, you are...though I think I know what you mean.” He sighed and ran his hand across his face. “I made a bad alliance with the United States military when we started looking for Evolutus. We let fear rule our decisions, we acted injudiciously. And, some of the people we should have protected, we hurt. I think you saw the very messy results of that.”

Skye nodded.

“That shouldn't have happened.”

“Me seeing it?”

“No. The way we detained that group of...”

“People like me,” Skye finished for him. 

“We are in a tough position. People fear what they do not understand. And some of these powers, they're beyond dangerous. Especially with a group like Evolutus whose objective is nothing but harmful.”

“This is where I probably should apologize,” Skye cut in.

“For?”

“I made a bad alliance...” She used his own words intentionally but he didn't seem to want to dwell on it. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s official stance, apparently, was the end of her association more than justified the means she took to get there. She wondered if 'officially' her time AWOL had been reconstructed as a special assignment.

“You also made a good one.”

“Ward?”

“Yes, well, there's him too. But I was more thinking about how you were able to repair some of the damaged we wrought with the man named Videmus and his people.”

“You've talked with Videmus? When? Is he here?”

“Yes. He's largely responsible for you, uh, medical treatment. And, not currently, no. He stays outside of the headquarters with his other friends.”

“He's the reason I was able to figure out that Zane was not as he was pretending to be. And I think he may be the proof that not all inhumans are, well, inhumane.”

Coulson tapped his fingers on his pant leg. “I think you're more than proof of that yourself, Skye. But, yes. He is. And that is something we need more of...So,” he smiled again, “I'm about to offer you a job.”

Skye had not been expecting that. “Don't I already have a job with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

It was Coulson's turn to cock an eyebrow at her. “I think we took you off the books when you snuck in with a crew of ex-Hydra agents and then blew a hole through the foundation of our building.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive that Skye had been using that infamous day. “There are easier ways to get information, you know.” He handed it to her.

Skye's jaw dropped. “Free and clear? Just like that?”

“This isn't the first time we tried to use S.H.I.E.L.D. intel to dig up your past, Skye. I'm not sure how helpful that will be. May and I looked it over. Top secret inhuman cities in the sky? It's awfully vague about the whereabouts but if it can be of some use,” Coulson shrugged. “Besides, perhaps you'll consider it a hiring bonus? Or maybe even a first mission? We need to know where we stand with...uh, people with such exceptional abilities. Opening a line of communication with them is a responsible first step.”

“Right. The job?”

“How would you like to head up the Index Asset Evaluation and Intake program?”

“Can I change the name?”

“Only if you can make it a cool acronym.”

“Acronyms are never cool, AC,” Skye said with a smile. “You're going to have to change some policies with how you deal with enhanced individuals if I'm on board for this.”

“We can learn. I think we will do a lot better with someone that has a little...empathy...leading the process.”

Skye considered the offer. She'd left S.H.I.E.L.D. because she'd felt like she couldn't help them anymore, because she'd been a danger to herself, to others. So much had changed between then and now. To rejoin S.H.I.E.L.D. with the goal of helping people get through that really desperate time? She could get behind that. 

Coulson was still trying to sweeten the deal, still unsure of her willingness to return. “You'll need mobility. We have this plane...It's been collecting a lot of dust of late...”

“Can I pick my own team?”

Coulson grimaced. “He's not going to be able to regain the clearance he once had.”

Ward. Skye figured that he would have a hard road to walk. “He can just be the pilot. Mike? Kara Lynn? Fitz-Simmons?”

“If you can get them to sign on, we will support you in this. Evolutus is still at large. We'd like to tie that up before there's another cache of city leveling explosives to deal with.” Coulson stood and moved to the door quickly. He opened it up and five rather guilty faces were pressed a little too closely to the door. 

“Guys?”

Mike and Kara Lynn smirked at Skye. 

“You mean you're offering to pay us to do something?” Kara Lynn said with a lot more excitement than Skye would've expected. “I don't think I can say no to such an opportunity.”

Instead of accepting the job in the traditional manner, Fitz bounded over to Skye and gave her a hug. He was already pretty far into a monologue about how he could calibrate the medical scan to gauge for differing levels of some nigh unpronounceable and completely incomprehensible chemicals or pheromones or some such. Simmons started talking about how that wouldn't entirely be necessary because simple blood work would get the intake information without any of the fuss.

Skye saw May lingering near the back of the room. “You'd be welcome to join us too, Agent May.”

The older woman shook her head. Though she didn't really smile, her eyes were warm. “I think I'm of more use right here for now. S.H.I.E.L.D. still has a lot to rebuild.”

“Ward?” 

Ward started forward but Coulson cleared his throat. He'd automatically frowned when the name was spoken and he kept the dour countenance as he dug into his pocket and pulled out an orange envelope. “There's one matter we need to clear up before this goes any further.” Coulson handed the envelope to Ward.

Ward flipped it over and opened it up. Inside was a $250 parking ticket for blocking the fire hydrant in front of city hall.

“You're welcome to pay it upfront or we can take it out of your first pay check,” Coulson offered helpfully. 

Ward's appalled look had everyone laughing uproariously. Skye crept closer to him and ran a hand around his hip, leaning in to him with a poorly concealed yawn. 

Her friends took the hint. One by one, they made their excuses and filed from the room. Simmons was the last to go. She advised Skye to avoid rigorous physical activity just yet as she was still on the mend. She delivered this medical recommendation with a rosy blush riding her cheeks and left quickly thereafter. 

And, then, it was just her and Ward. Skye looked up at him only to find him glowering down at her.

She traced a finger down the slope of his frown. “Is this still about the parking ticket?”

“No.” He said gruffly. 

“What's your problem then?”

He stared at her, his eyes darkening slightly. He let the silence build for so long Skye almost wondered if he'd lost his ability to talk. He walked toward her pressing her back until she was sitting on the edge of the stiff hospital bed again. He weaved one hand into her hair and tilted her face up toward his own. Leaning in, he repeated her question. “What's my problem? I don't know if it is a problem. Maybe you can advise me on that.” He pressed his forehead into hers and didn't speak for a long time. He seemed to be trying to absorb her.

“I don't have to ability to mind read, Grant, so...”

“I love you.” He said it fast. Threw the statement out in the room and let it do as it would do.

There was no explosions or interruptions to derail them this time. Just a soft laugh from Skye. “I hardly think that's a problem,” she said, pulling him back into the bed with her. 

Simmons recommendation for no rigorous physical activity was only just attended to and only because they were too tired for much more than falling together on the all too narrow hospital bed. 

When Skye woke a second time, Ward was tangled around her properly as was his wont. She wasn't assailed with memories of a past failure this time. She had hopes for future success. She wound herself closer to Ward and smiled into the darkness of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end. I might post an epilogue to the series but it'll be a one-shot like 'Oscar the Grouch' and 'When it Rains'. I think the next long shot story I go into will not be set in this AU that was really a 'in-the-break post 2x10' set up. There's so much more information to go on now that the second half of the season is underway!
> 
> I truly owe infinite thanks to ExcellentlyEllen. I don't think I would have even written this had she not so kindly encouraged me after the end of 'An Honest Converstation'. Thank you for your support, your edits, and your general awesomeness.
> 
> The readers who so ceaselessly wrote comments and threats and recommendations and what not - you made the writing of this much more fun. Thanks to all of you:
> 
> Dontletthenarglessneakuponyou, maricejayo, Lisa, AstridV, NikiD3195, Zoroark3496, aaaskyward, Lily1986, Missy8409, WittyNinja, Sreya, quakeward, Patricia, Anne, Matarreyes, janefanatic, colormeblue, toneofsurprise, FavoredFire, (Andy), and Ana


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